


The Fall of the Universe

by Evaldrynn, terranakari



Category: The Avengers (Marvel Movies), Thor (Movies)
Genre: A/B/O, Alpha Loki, Angst, Blood and Injury, But its not actually her last name, F/M, Kinda, Loki is a good guy, Sexual Tension, Slow Burn, Soulmate AU, TW: suicidal thoughts, but in a lighter kind of way, but things happen quite differently, dark themes, diverting from canon, mentions of depression, mentions of torture, reader has a mentioned last name, takes place during the timeline of The Avengers
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-01-28
Updated: 2019-07-08
Packaged: 2019-10-18 11:25:17
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 14
Words: 35,459
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17579951
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Evaldrynn/pseuds/Evaldrynn, https://archiveofourown.org/users/terranakari/pseuds/terranakari
Summary: Usually there comes a point where a secret can no longer stay hidden. You had hoped that day would never come; but after being assigned as 'therapist' to a particularly intelligent criminal, things don't really go the way you want them to - and before long you find yourself on dangerous grounds.A/B/O (but not the creepy kind) + Soulmate AU, because I haven't written for either of those tropes yet and I don't think they have been merged before!Thank you Laana for writing this with me and for giving me the inspiration and support to turn it into a fic! You are an amazing friend ❤❤❤





	1. Prologue - Loki

Two years; but it might as well have been a thousand.  
Time had slipped through his fingers and mind and had left him altogether as his torture had continued day after day, hour after hour, second after passing second until he was unable to count them any longer. Now he wasn't really able to do much at all. He merely existed, pain the only thing he knew as the flames consumed his body again, and again, and again; temperatures so high his cold-running blood would boil inside his veins. He didn't know if he was still screaming into the void or if his voice had long since left him. He didn't know if the parts of his body he still felt were actually there. He didn't know if it was still just the darkness around him or if his eyes had given up. 

But he knew that they would never grant him the relief of death. 

 

He could hear them laugh inside his mind sometimes. They enjoyed this; forcing him into the form he despised and hated, using its vulnerabilities against him. Everything he had learned about the Frost Giants now used for his own personalised torture in an ironic twist of fate.  
Bile rose in his throat and made him gag, made him retch up nothing for the millionth time. He was past the point of wishing for death and had switched to actively trying to find it, focusing on the agony until he could feel his mind slip from his being – but they caught him every time before he succeeded; pushing him back into his body and keeping him prisoner there. This was his fate for trying to end his life. This was his Hel. 

The air around him seemed to gather tension, seemed to spark and tingle, and he knew what was coming; his breathing quickly picking up in panic and his hands tightening into fists - but nothing could prepare him for the blazing agony that washed over him. The sickening smell of his own body burning and melting and sizzling was almost worse than the pain.  
Almost.  
There was but one way out and so far he had done everything to avoid it, had tried to die before giving in; yet it seemed his captor was running out of patience. 

_”Loki, Loki, Loki...”_ The deep, mocking voice rang clear inside his mind. _“If only you could have seen the visions I had about a better future; the plans I have to help the universe.”_

The burning continued, yet the pain was not enough to tune out the madman inside his head. 

_”Do you not want revenge against those who hurt you? Those who_ wronged _you?”_ A different voice, just as mocking yet lighter in tone.

“No,” he croaked in response. The taste of blood seemed to never fade. “My selfishness... it doesn't outweigh the lives of half the universe.” He wanted to shout it, wanted to lace his words with such venom it would sneak into the Titan's blood and kill him painfully; but his lungs protested with every syllable he spoke and every ragged breath he needed to take for them. 

Yes, he had been wronged by many, but he didn't wish death upon them. He had merely wanted a chance to prove himself - to show them he was worth their time, their affection. He had craved to be accepted and had instead been cast out. They had made him feel worthless, helpless, powerless, lonely...  
But he didn't wish them dead. 

The voices just laughed, they laughed and laughed inside his mind. 

_”I'm sorry, Loki,”_ the Titan continued as if Loki had never said a thing, _“but you're running out of time.”_

And with the echoing sound of a snap the voices were gone, the fires raging higher than they ever had before.

 

More time passed - only Yggdrasil knew how long - while the torture continued and he fought to reach death but was never granted it. Everyone thought he was dead, though; swallowed by a black hole or suffocated in the vast expanse of black matter, and so it was foolish to hope that help was coming. Even if they had known he was alive no one would have come.  
All that he still had left to fight for was his own mind, his own selfhood; to give in meant losing who he was. But he felt himself slipping more and more. He felt how he grew exhausted from trying to fight back, how not just his body and mind, but his very soul was giving up on him. Questions he hadn't dared to ask himself began to rise. 

How much worse could serving Thanos be?  
If it would relieve him from this everlasting torture... 

Was he prepared to lose his morals and values, his personality, his emotions - just to 'survive'?

No, no, no he was not, he was not- until he _was_ , and his no shifted to yes, yes, _please_ -  
And they broke his mind. They shattered it, tore it to pieces and ripped the pieces to shreds. 

Until there was little left of him.


	2. Ready  Set  Action

The plan was clear, and after some minor inconveniences – like his arrival on Midgard making the building he appeared in collapse soon after – he was on his way to get the material needed to succeed; having acquired a couple of henchmen to do his bidding in the meantime. The effect the Mindstone had on him was a constant hum in the back of his head and he had gotten used to it rather quickly, yet part of him knew that everything about this was wrong. This wasn't him, this wasn't what he wanted – but his life was no longer his to control. He was a puppet on strings, a monster on a leash; tamed and used for evil. 

Doctor Selvig, one of his own little puppets, told him they would need to get a specific kind of material to make their device work; the only problem was that it was locked away and guarded in a different country. Distance meant nothing to him, though, even with his magic low, and the guards could be taken care off. All he then needed was a way to get through the lock. So he set his men to work: to figure out every little detail and to report back to him once they found anything of use.  
It didn't take them long.  
Before another day had passed he had come up with a plan – one with more layers than met the eye – and soon after he was on his way to their next location, where the first stage would be put into action. 

 

\- 

 

The night was rather frisky, and you wrapped your trench coat a bit tighter around you. Not that it helped. The cool breeze ran past your bare legs, making goosebumps spread, and with your hair done up in a fancy hairdo the cold slipped down your neck and right into your coat. Luckily it wouldn't take much longer before you could find refuge in the warmth of the gala room.  
They had dropped you off in Stuttgart, in the south part of Germany, only a block away from the building your target had entered. It was quite easy to get in with the power of a pretty dress and fancy high heels, not even a single question about your invite or your business at the exclusive party, and of course the flirty wink at the doorman had helped quite a bit too. So, your coat having been taken by a valet, you swayed your hips a little more as you walked in; blending into the crowd as if you belonged there while it was as far from the truth as can be. This was the last place you wanted to be. But, alas, you didn't quite have a choice, as Fury wanted you to observe your next patient outside a cell before they would catch him and have him sit through your sessions. That wasn't the only reason they had sent you, specifically, however. 

You were replaceable. 

And you were fine with that.  
You made your way to the back wall to have an overview of the whole room, on your way taking a glass of far too expensive alcohol from a silver tray that a waiter carried past, then settling with your back against the marble.  
It didn't take long for your target to arrive. 

He came down the stairs, dressed up in a fancy suit and a complementary scarf, a golden staff in his hand. Hm, his pictures didn't do him justice. With hair slicked back and a serious expression on his face he was the most handsome criminal you had needed to assess so far. You took a sip of your drink as he swung his staff and smacked a man in the face with such force the guy backflipped, Odinson continuing on a quick pace grabbing a second man in his path and flipping him onto an altar-like piece of art. All chaos broke loose.  
People began screaming, began running out, but you kept your place at the wall and took another sip as he pulled out a strange device and placed it on his victim's head, a blue light radiating from it. Apparently it was all that he needed. 

Once the poor man had been discarded you called 112 and made sure he would get medical help; but you were certain he would survive. Back to your objective.

Anticipating the criminal's movements you joined the end of the stream of people and casually followed them outside - grabbing your coat from the gallery first - and made your way into the crowd again, careful not to be pushed aside. And you were right: soon enough Odinson came out again as well, a golden shimmer washing over him and changing him. He grew taller, his suit turned to armour, and a horned helmet adorned his head while his staff grew bigger and more ornate. A grin tugged on the corner of your lips as your mind made a sideways joke about how he was probably trying to compensate for something. 

You leaned against a streetlight, not having abandoned your drink yet, and watched how he stopped a police car with some kind of energy beam, cloned himself around the crowd to force them to stay together, and then yelled at them to kneel. 

"Is not this simpler?" he began, arm spread wide as if to make an example of them. "Is this not your natural state?"

He started to make his way into the kneeling crowd. 

"It's the unspoken truth of humanity that you crave subjugation. The bright lure of freedom diminishes your life's joy in a mad scramble for power, for identity. You were made to be ruled. In the end you will always kneel."

You rolled your eyes and took another sip. He was right about the fact that humans were pretty much dumb pieces of shit who probably shouldn't be left to govern themselves or others, and that most of them were hungry for power, but he made it too theatrical. It was too much of a show. His brainwashed henchmen were probably gathering something he needed while he distracted everyone else, because why else would he be making such a show out of it? He did seem to enjoy himself though; the drama, the grandiosity, the attention. Like he was just soaking it all up before getting caught. The text didn't seem rehearsed but it definitely felt like he was stalling for time, or waiting for the heroes to show up. Interesting. He wanted to be caught, didn't he? But why? Had he lost interest in his own goals, or was it part of his plan? 

Your lungs began to itch and tingle and you tried to suppress it, but failed in the end and coughed loudly into your elbow. 

His eyes found you. 

Oopsie daisy. Oh well! You kept his gaze with an unimpressed one of your own and took another sip to wash the taste of blood from the back of your throat. At least you had had something luxurious before dying at the hands of a criminal? It was a damn good cocktail for sure.  
But at that moment an old man from the crowd stood and spoke up. 

"Not to men like you." 

Sir Odinson's attention was pulled back to his little show, and he huffed out a laugh. "There are no men like me." 

"There are always men like you." 

Yikes, Mr. Dramaqueen didn't seem to like that one. 

"Look to your elder, people. Let him be an example." 

He lowered his scepter and your heart skipped a beat, as you had seen the powerful energy shoot from that thing and flip that police car only a few minutes ago. There was no way that man was going to survive it. Before you could stop yourself you set a step forward and called out. 

"Wait!-" 

But the beam shot forward- 

And was deflected by Captain America's shield, straight back into Odinson's gut. 

A relieved sigh escaped your lips and you took a big gulp of your drink to calm your beating heart, the alcohol warming you up too. Too bad there was nothing left. Could you still sneak inside and grab a bottle? Ah, you should probably pay attention to the fight. 

With the criminal struck to the ground Mr. Rogers had quite the confidence, but you were a little worried. This guy seemed powerful. Still he continued to provoke him. 

"You know, the last time I was in Germany and saw a man standing above everybody else, we ended up disagreeing." 

Odinson got back onto his feet and grinned like the energy beam hadn't even left a scratch. Well, that would be up to you to examine, you thought with annoyance crossing your face. 

"The soldier," he mocked. "A man out of time." 

"I'm not the one who's out of time." 

The Quintjet arrived and Agent Romanov's voice sounded through the speakers. "Loki, drop the weapon and stand down." To which, of course, the guy responded with shooting at the jet.

Cap joined in and dealt a couple of punches before he was thrown a few feet back by Odinson's retaliating attacks, his shield then smacked out of the way with the scepter; leaving him to fight with his fists. Yikes, this didn't look too good for Rogers. Another slap with the staff and Cap was once again down on the ground, but came back with a roundkick to the criminal's face. Whoops, there went Rogers flying again. Popcorn would've been nice for this show. You were still leaning against the street light, twirling the empty cocktail glass between your fingers, when suddenly music blasted from the Quintjet speakers and you rolled your eyes as you knew who was about to make his grand entrance.

Stark came swooping in with a blast from his lasers, Odinson being the one flying across the square this time as the billionaire landed and pointed all his weapons and whatnot at him. 

"Make your move, Reindeer games." 

You squinted in suspicion. If he was giving up this easily then he definitely didn't mind being caught, because even when outnumbered you didn't doubt he could fight back and manage to escape. But there he went, the golden shimmer back only now reducing him to the size of a normal human, and his armour replacing itself with a less flashy outfit. Unbelievable. 

"Good move," Stark noted, and lowered his weapons as Rogers came to stand next to him. "Captain," he greeted the man. 

"Mister Stark," he responded a little out of breath. 

They cuffed the Asgardian and ushered him towards the jet, Cap making his way over to you instead. 

"You're the one to analyse him, right? Think you got everything you need?" 

You nodded in response. "I think I've got enough to start with." 

"Good, then let's go." 

Both of you made your way into the jet as well, Ms. Romanov still behind the steering wheel while Stark was buckling up their catch in one of the seats.

"Feel free to take a seat, Agent Smith." 

You nodded and sat on the opposite side, not too keen on sitting next to a man who could no doubt easily break out and use you as some kind of leverage to escape if he wanted. He probably wouldn't, though. Either way, you were as calm as ever as you buckled yourself up.  
Of course Stark would start bickering with Rogers the moment everything was settled - and Cap obviously wasn't happy with the fact that Fury hadn't informed him about Stark joining the fight today - but you blocked out their conversation and instead moved to stare into nothingness; only having forgotten that Odinson was right in front of you and so you accidentally met his gaze.

 

Everything so far was going according to plan. As he sat, captured, in the aircraft seat, his eyes met those of the woman he had seen in the crowd. Her disinterest and lack of fear made sense now. How had they known where he would be? Did they know about the rest of his plan? What part did she play in theirs?

A loud boom of thunder sounded through inside the cabin and his gaze moved upwards. It was close, and dread rose within him. 

“What’s the matter? Afraid of a little thunder?” The Captain's voice was mocking, but he paid no attention to it. 

“I’m not overly fond of what follows.” 

A loud thud announced what he had feared: his brother's arrival - and soon enough the Asgardian knocked the man named Stark on his behind, grabbed Loki by his throat, and pulled him from his seat (rather roughly, might he add) before dragging him out of the vehicle. 

And off they went.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I chose the common/basic last name for a reason, but don't worry: it's not actually your name. ( ͡° ͜ʖ ͡°)
> 
> 112 = Europe's 911


	3. Observations

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Here is chapter 3, my gift to you on my own birthday haha! What do you call it in English? Do you guys bring treats to like school or work when it's your birthday? I wish I could send you all some sweets to enjoy. Anyway, I hope you like the chapter!

You watched as Stark went after the two of them, then Rogers, and only you and Romanov were left behind in silent and contemplating shock. 

Well, that just happened. 

You glanced down at the clouds before the back of the plane closed up again. Had the criminal - who had willingly come along with them - just been kidnapped? A sigh slipped from your lips. Luckily you weren't the one expected to fix that mess of a situation. 

 

His brother threw him into the hard, ungiving ground, knocking the air from his lungs; yet as soon as some of it returned to him he laughed. Everything hurt but it was not nearly as bad as he had been forced to endure, and with his head having been smashed into the rock his mind buzzed – the grip of the Mindstone wavering a little, making him feel more like himself than he had in years. The irony was not lost on him and his laugh only deepened.

Thor was not impressed. “Where is the Tesseract?” 

The first words spoken to him at their reunion: a question not about his wellbeing, not about how he was alive or what had happened to him. No, a question to give Thor what he needed to 'save' Midgard. 

“I missed you too,” Loki huffed through his laughter – and for once he might have meant it, if only just a little bit.

Of course his brother wouldn't understand Loki's amusement. 

“Do I look to be in a gaming mood?!” His voice boomed and echoed over the landscape below the cliff. 

“You should thank me,” Loki groaned in response as he moved to stand. “With the Bifrost gone, how much dark energy did the All-Father have to muster to conjure you here? Your precious Earth.” 

The golden-haired prince dropped his hammer and grabbed him by the throat again, but his grip weakened. 

“I thought you dead.”

He wished it had been true. 

“Did you mourn?” 

“We all did. Our father-” 

“Your father,” Loki corrected him with venom creeping into his voice. Odin was the one who had cast him out, who had made him let go in the hopes of ending his life and yet finding a far worse fate. Odin was not his father, not by blood and not by heart. “He did tell you my true parentage, did he not?”

“We were raised together – we played together, fought together! Do you remember none of that?” 

“I remember a shadow; living in the shade of your greatness. I remember you tossing me into an abyss – I who was and _should_ be king!” The Mindstone's control over him flared up and amplified his rage, his pain, his sorrow. He didn't even truly want to be king anymore. 

“So you take the world I love as recompense for your imagined slights?! No, the Earth is under my protection, Loki.” 

But he just laughed. “And you're doing a marvelous job with that!” Unaware of the danger that was coming, the unstoppable ruin that was approaching fast. But he couldn't tell him. “The humans slaughter each other in droves while you idly fret. I mean to rule them – why should I not?” 

It was half a truth. 

“You think yourself above them?” 

“Well, yes,” he replied with a frown. 

“Then you miss the truth of ruling, brother. The throne would suit you ill.” 

He smacked Thor aside with a scowl and walked a little up the cliff, the edge reminding him of that moment he gave up on ever being loved. If he could rule this realm, if he could stop the fighting and the slaughtering and the sorrow... then they would see how wrong they had been. How wrong they still were when it came to him.

“I've seen worlds you've never known about,” he spat at his brother as he continued towards the edge of the cliff. “I have grown, _Odinson_ , in my 'exile'. I have seen the true power of the Tesseract, and when I wield-”

“Who showed you this power? Who controls the would-be king?” 

"I _am_ a king!” 

“Not here!” He grabbed his brother's armour and shook him. “You give up the Tesseract, you give up this poisonous dream!” His gaze saddened, his grip loosening, and he moved a hand to his Loki's shoulder. “You come home.” 

Tears burnt in his eyes as he scanned Thor's. Home? Where they despised him, hated him, wished he hadn't returned? Where they didn't give a horse's ass about who he was and what had happened to him after they had discarded him? No. 

He shook his head. “I don't have it.” 

Out of pure frustration Thor summoned Mjölnir and lifted his arm, and Loki did what he had always done at moments like these: talk his way out. 

“You need the cube to bring me home but I've sent it off I know not where.” 

“Listen well, brother-” 

But before he could continue something crashed into him and sent him flying, leaving Loki alone atop the edge; and he lifted his brows at the now vacant space in front of him.

“I'm listening?” 

 

 

Steve's voice crackled over the com, annoyance dripping from every word – though of course not aimed at Romanov. 

“I'll keep you posted on my location, but first I have to break up a fight between two overpowered toddlers. Loki's sitting on top of that cliff, shouldn't be too hard to retrieve.” 

“Got it,” Agent Romanov replied, and glanced at you over her shoulder. “You know how to fly this thing, right?” 

“I do; it was part of the basic training program.” 

“Take over please and get the rear down to the cliff's edge, I'll get the Asgardian.” 

You did as you were told, taking control of the yoke and letting her slip past you before you sat down in her seat and brought the jet in the requested position; one press of a button enough to lower the rear door. It took Agent Romanov less than a minute to get the grinning criminal back on board. It only confirmed your suspicions: that guy wanted to be caught. He had had plenty of time to try and get away, to flee into the woods or something, but he had stayed put like an obedient child waiting for his parents to come and pick him up after school. 

Romanov took over once Odinson had been buckled up for the second time that evening, and only moments later did Steve's voice sound out over the com again to give them his location. Apparently their fight had blasted the trees outwards somehow, creating enough space for the jet to get low enough to pick them up, and soon everyone was once again on board – including the second Asgardian. 

The silence didn't last long. Stark and Rogers went back to their bickering, Romanov occasionally joining in, and you had expected the two demigods to start their own conversation. They stayed silent, though. A mix of hurt and annoyance was swirling in the blonde's eyes, indifference in those of the raven-haired one, and you couldn't help but study the latter. There was something about him... Something you couldn't quite put your finger on. He met your gaze without hesitation and held it, observing you as intently as you were observing him.  
Agent Romanov's cursing in Russian pulled your attention back to their conversation for a second, their guest having joined them, and you listened in until it was mentioned that Mr. Muscle was Odinson's brother. Great, now you'd have to include their first names into your notes and speech to avoid confusion, which was something you preferred not to do: calling your 'patients' by their last name kept some of the distance that was needed to stay professional and, well, distant.

Your eyes shifted to Thor, then to Loki, and back again; trying to find similarities - yet the only ones you could find were that both their outfits were centered around a single colour and that both of them were Alphas. There was nothing about their facial features that looked even remotely alike, nothing about the built of their bodies or the way they acted, and you wondered if one of them was from a different mother or father – or perhaps adopted altogether. She would have certainty once she got his file. 

 

Loki rolled his eyes at the arguing. The Beta in the metal suit was obviously having some trouble accepting his designation and tried to act more like an Alpha instead, which only served to annoy the actual Alpha man he was fighting with. How dull. The red-haired woman was a little more interesting: her Alpha scent was barely strong enough to smell, diluted and weak, as if her scent glands were underdeveloped – but it was the woman sitting across from him who truly intrigued him.  
As a Jotun it was easy for him to pick up on someone's designation without putting too much thought into it, similar to observing the colour of someone's hair or eyes, but when he shifted his attention to her... His nose told him Beta, though hesitantly so, and his mind told him that something was off. Something was just _wrong_ about her. For some reason it made his stomach clench uneasily, made him feel like dread sizzled quietly within him even though he did not know what for. 

He searched her eyes, tried to inhale a little deeper without making it obvious, yet his uncertainty stayed unchanged. 

Yet besides her rather confusing scent – or lack thereof – it was her indifference that made him curious, too. He had seen her standing beside the crowd, leaning against a streetlight, watching him rather casually; and she hadn't even seem too bothered by the fact that he had noticed her when she had coughed. She should have been petrified like all the other humans kneeling at his feet, should have been shivering in terror at his towering height and cold stare. Nothing. None of that. Even now, as he looked her straight into her eyes, she looked back without hesitation. He could see intelligence, curiosity, suspicion.  
But no fear. 

After a few seconds she seemed to be done analysing him and moved her gaze away, staring silently into nothingness instead. What did she have to do with the rest of these people? She stayed out of their argument and didn't try to stop it either, seeming fully disinterested in whatever they said.  
He observed her a little longer, mused on the questions inside his mind, until the Mindstone decided for him that she was not of importance; and he let it go. 

 

An hour or so later Agent Romanov announced that they had arrived and called in to the tower to ask for permission to land, informing them about the criminal on board and the need for an escorting squad of agents – which stood ready the moment they got out, and they quickly took Loki away to his cell.

Your work was only about to start, though. The first thing required from you was a report on what you had seen and figured out so far and what you would need for your sessions; what techniques you were going to try and how quickly you expected to get the answers to Fury's questions. Because that was where you were hired for again and again: to get the information from the individuals they caught. And, if they cooperated, you were allowed to guide them back onto the right path and give them a 'happy ending'. Obviously it didn't always work. But, to your slight pride, at least four of the agents walking around the Hovership today were criminals-turned-good. The reason you were allowed to do this? Practicality. The criminals Shield caught were often thoroughly trained at combat, were enhanced in one way or another, or possessed some kind of power; and turning them to your own side meant you would have those beneficial factors fighting _for _you instead of against you.  
But to you it was honestly just a job that paid well. __

__So you returned to your room and wrote the report, sent it to Agent Coulson and Agent Hill, who would then in turn make sure it got to Fury, and in the time before you got a reply you changed back into the outfit all agents wore and got rid of the fancy makeup and hairdo; the dress unceremoniously thrown onto the floor. Ugh, you needed more alcohol. Fury wouldn't be happy if he found out about that cocktail you had downed during your 'mission', and you doubted your excuses would satisfy him, so there was only one option left: hope he didn't find out and deny it if he did. Great plan._ _

__

__You got a meager forty minutes of just laying atop your bed reading through Loki's file before the request to report to Coulson was announced through your earpiece. They probably wanted to discuss some things face to face, possibly give you information that was too sensitive for it to be sent digitally; but you had a feeling that they were going to tell you they wanted the first session to take place _today_. Time was of the essence, after all.  
Thus you got up, took your bag from your desk, and made your way through the maze-like hallways of the massive Hovership; spotting Agent Rogers striding almost furiously up ahead before taking a left, and noticing how the others were apparently continuing their bickering in the lab. Fun. Good thing you kept your distance from your colleagues as well because no one was even remotely close to being a ray of sunshine here. _ _

__Well, maybe there was one man who got close enough._ _


	4. Examination - Part I

“Agent Smith,” Coulson greeted you with a polite nod and a light smile, holding out his hand to shake yours. His grip was firm yet gentle.  
“Thank you for doing this. I know director Fury and the others might have you believe that you're replaceable, but in my time working here I have seen enough agents shy away from missions less dangerous than what you had to face today.” 

His warmth was a refreshing change from the neutral faces that had surrounded you every day so far, yet the sudden kindness was unexpected; and for a lack of better words you just thanked him and gave him a smile of your own in return. He continued.

“I've read your report. We might have a problem if you're right about Loki wanting to be here, especially if it's part of his plan somehow. We have him contained in the Fishbowl for now, but who knows how long it'll take before we might need it for someone else; and I doubt there will be another adequate cell here on board the Helicarrier. Plan B would be to move him to the Raft.”

You hid your smile behind your hand. “Sorry - Fishbowl?” 

“Oh! Sorry, yes - it's what we call the glass cell. Well, me and a few other agents do, but it's spreading fast.” He waved his words away with a nonchalant movement of his hand, yet you couldn't help but notice the light blush of embarrassment forming on the Omega's face. It only made your amusement grow. 

“Anyway, we have him locked up for now, and like you said: he doesn't seem to mind it much. Regarding the rest of your report it seems we have more questions than answers. You mentioned no one got hurt besides the man whose eye he took and the guy who he hit with his scepter?” 

“Yeah. He almost shot an old man with what looked like some kind of laser beam, though, and I don't think he would have survived the blow.” 

Agent Coulson hummed in thought; yet after a few seconds he didn't seem to have found a satisfying answer to whatever he had been wondering about. “If you can find out his reasons for everything he has done so far that would be a massive help. Would it be possible to do the psychological screening today?” 

The question you had expected. 

“Of course. I'm certain it will take me multiple sessions to get him to talk, though. I also need to do a physical examination first, and granting Mr. Odinson full privacy during it might make him more prone to cooperating – yet I understand if that is not possible considering his colour status.” 

All criminals were rated beforehand, their labels ranging from a light green to a deep red so the right safety measures could be chosen accordingly, but you didn't fully trust the rating system. How dangerous someone was depended on so many things - two of the most important factors being context and environment – and just slapping a colour onto them based on their skills in combat or how many people they had murdered was not only inaccurate as fuck, but it also presented the danger of underestimating the person in question. It might even be better to give everyone red as a standard and then find out if they were less dangerous than that. You were glad that in this case Shield had been sensible enough to give Loki the highest danger level: Agent Romanov had said that the Odinsons were 'basically demigods', after all, and though you could only make vague guesses about what that entailed it would be up to you to decide if he deserved his colour or not. 

“We will do everything to ensure your safety during the physical exam if you think it's needed, but when it comes to Loki's privacy...” Coulson hesitated. “Since he's not human, Shield technically doesn't need to abide laws concerning human rights when dealing with him. I think Fury wants him monitored 24/7 through both audio and video.”

As expected. And, of course, you had already thought about a reply. 

“I know it might be a lot to ask for, but I can promise you that giving Mr. Odinson full privacy rights during his medical examination will be followed by the quickest and most accurate results. I would prefer to have the mics turned off during our sessions as well, as people often only dare to speak up and tell their secrets in an atmosphere of confidentiality, and of course I will send you the complete reports afterwards. Everything will be in them.” 

The man's eyebrows moved a little closer together, a strange look in his eyes, and for a moment he simply studied you as he seemed to be contemplating something of which the nature confused him. 

“If you think it's necessary to be on blackout then I suppose we can give it a try; but I'm going to post a squad outside the door and give you a panic button to wear around your wrist.” Another pause, concern woven into his face and posture. “If he tries something just press that button and we'll come running, okay?” 

You had been right in your previous observation: Agent Coulson truly was the only agent possessing the warmth of a kind-hearted person. The fact that he always seemed to care about your wellbeing, even if just a little, touched you more than you would have liked; but you couldn't help but appreciate it – appreciate _him_ – and so you gave him a reassuring smile to hopefully ease some of his worry. 

“Thank you, sir. I promise to press the button if I don't trust the situation. I'll be all right, no need to worry.” 

He didn't look too convinced. Still, you continued; not worried in the slightest about the danger that being alone in a room with a criminally inclined alien-slash-demigod could pose. 

“After both the physical and psychological assessment I'll send you my reports as per usual. We can discuss the outcomes and any measures that might need to be taken.” 

“You're a brave woman, Agent Smith.” 

He pulled a hand from the pocket of his dress pants and gestured to one of the doors, following after you as you silently made your way into the shown direction, and only once the two of you had arrived at your destination did he speak again. 

“As you know, all that you need regarding medical supplies are there; but if you have any requests just tell me over your earpiece and I'll make sure it will be taken care of as quickly as possible.” He secured the band with the panic button around your wrist, unlocked the Medical Exam Room for you using his clearance card, and held the door open like the gentleman he was. “Loki will be brought in ten minutes from now. Are you sure you don't want at least one other agent in there with you?” 

“I'm sure.” Your small but grateful smile was back one more time; in case you had miscalculated and this would truly be your last day alive. “Again, thank you, sir. Your concern has meant a lot to me.” 

He nodded, visibly affected by how final your words sounded, and he swallowed his own before giving you a last pat on the shoulder. “Be careful.” 

And off he went. 

 

You were familiar with the sterile room by now, having held quite a few medical exams in it since your first day of work, and even with your mind occupied your hands could still find everything you needed. You set your body to work on autopilot as you organised your thoughts.

Asgardian – not human. That's what the file and multiple agents had said. His physique had looked similar to if not the same as that of an average human, perhaps a bit taller, but you wondered if the inside was comparable as well. If he had a wholly different set of organs with completely different structures it might be hard to check for any abnormalities or afflictions. It was impossible that the energy beam which had struck him in the gut had left no damage, though, and you were certain he was in need of at least some medical attention after being blasted to the concrete.  
The fact that Shield didn't necessarily need to follow the law when it came to Odinson was a little worrying as well. It meant you were his only line of protection, the only person that would be able to keep them from getting information out of him using torture once they decided he wasn't of any use to them. Not even having the right to live... You didn't even want to imagine how he would have been treated, should he have been a normal citizen participating in society. 

Your time was running out and you set your thoughts aside for now, focusing on reality again and making sure there was nothing left in the open that could be used against you. No scalpels, no knives,

and neither soulmark visible. 

 

 

They didn't leave him in his glass prison for long before he was moved again, and the stupidity of it made him frown. Were they truly so ignorant as to present him with an opportunity to escape? Of course they were not aware that the handcuffs were a joke to him, as well as the group of agents functioning as his escort, but that was their problem – not his. Still he casually went along without resisting; his curiosity piqued. 

Soon enough they arrived and he was led into a small room where the scent of antiseptics dominated all. No agents followed, the door was closed yet left unlocked, and there seemed to be no cameras; but most surprisingly:

she was there. 

He cocked his head to the side a little, squinting as he analysed her. Her dress and coat had been swapped for the generic outfit most agents on this ship seemed to wear, her makeup had been removed and her hair re-done into a much simpler style that required minimal effort, yet her gaze still stood as clear and fearless as before. 

“They seem to be making a habit of having you near me. Why is that?” He let his eyes wander over her and lifted a brow. “Do they expect me to be kinder to you because you're a woman?” 

Without missing a beat she answered: “Don't worry, I don't expect a VIP treatment. But you're right - I will be around you quite often from now on.” 

She took the surgical gloves off the desk and put them on, the action a little unnerving – though he obviously didn't show it. From the equipment that had been laid out he concluded that she was to perform a medical exam of some sort and her next words confirmed it. 

“I'm Agent Smith, your therapist and physician for as long as you're here. We're going to start with a physical exam, so please strip down to your underwear so I can check for any injuries and treat them if necessary.” 

“I'm sorry but that is not going to happen,” he snapped before even thinking about why in the realms they would want to treat his wounds. 

 

You studied his face, the dangerous look in his eyes, and the way his scent changed told you he was not at all happy with the idea of undressing. It didn't seem to be connected to prudishness or embarrassment. Was he hiding something, then; or was the experience of being naked in front of someone, perhaps a woman, connected to a traumatising memory? Either way it made him defensive, possibly aggressive, so you needed to be careful.  
You kept your voice soft, soothing. 

“I'm sorry Mr. Odinson, but I have to check your physical status. You got quite the blast to the stomach back there in Germany. I promise I will be gentle, and if you want we can use a safeword if I get to something you are not comfortable with.” 

“I can assure you that I am perfectly healthy, though I suppose it is amusing that you care about the monster's wellbeing. Are you not afraid that I will hurt you? Abuse you? Possibly even kill you? I am surprised they dared to leave you alone with me in the first place.” He stepped closer to her, using his height and dominant posture to try and intimidate her. 

She didn't seem impressed in the least. 

Perhaps he should go about it a different way. “If you are so desperate for confirmation I could lift my shirt and show you my abdomen; you'll see there is nothing to worry about and we won't need to continue this little playdate of ours.” She wouldn't know that her eyes were betraying her anyway – or, well, that his magic was betraying her eyes. He would look perfectly unharmed to her. 

“How about a compromise? If you take off your shirt and let me examine your torso you can keep the rest on and I'll be quick in my examining; we can do the remaining part another time so you have some time to mentally prepare for it. Does that sound reasonable?” 

He smirked, letting his eyes slowly glide over her body. “Why don't you take off just as much as I do; it would only be fair.” 

But even this didn't seem to make her uncomfortable. She just stood there and looked at him with a no-nonsense look in her eyes, patience radiating off of her. 

“Fine,” he nearly growled. “Not so witless after all, now, are you?” 

He inhaled deeply through his nose and set his magic to work, the top part of his outfit starting to dissipate, and a little grin returned at seeing how the look in her eyes changed ever so slightly. Humans could only dream of having magic like his.  
Once his chest was bare he spread his arms in a silent tah-dah. 

“Do my tricks impress you? Surely you've seen some of it when you observed me earlier this evening. I can show you more if you wish.” 

“They do impress me, yes. It looks very convenient. I bet it must have taken a while to learn how to control it?” 

A little smile tugged on your lips. He seemed calmer already, more willing to cooperate, and you were glad that you were already making progress with him. There were so many things he was telling you, showing you, without even realising it himself: how he had called himself 'the monster' - not just 'a' monster but _the_ monster; as if there was only one and it was him. How he had tried to change your mind through intimidation and words but hadn't physically touched you, and how he enjoyed the positive attention when it came to his magic. It must be something he was really proud of.  
As he began to tell you how it had taken decades and even centuries of training you studied his abdomen and chest for any visible damage but found nothing. Strange. Through the mirror behind him you could see his back was seemingly unharmed as well. 

“It's wonderful that you have that ability,” you replied to his rather boastful story. “I have to admit that I'm a bit envious.” 

“As you should be.” 

A soft snicker escaped you, yet it was time to move on with the examination. “I will need to touch you for the next part. Are you okay with that?” 

“I suppose I can't blame you for not being able to keep your hands off of me. I possess the body of a god, after all.” 

But you could see that his grin was a bit tense, a bit fake. He was masking his discomfort with teasing. To try and reassure him you kept your own smile warm and patient, not moving closer until you had gotten the green light. 

“I need your spoken consent before I can touch you. If anything I do is painful please tell me and I'll stop, and we can work out a way to proceed.” 

“Undressing, safewords, consent; it almost sounds like you're after far more intimate activities, agent.” 

“Loki.” 

His smirk fell and was replaced by a look of annoyance, his nose pulling up a little. 

“I _consent_.” 

“Thank you.”


	5. Examination - Part II

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Trigger warning for slight gore (?)

You set a step closer, waiting for a split second to give him the chance to stop you anyway, and when he kept his mouth tightly shut you set another step and gently pressed one hand to his abdominal region to feel if anything was off-

He staggered backwards with a roar- 

_Flames engulfed him and he was burning, suffocating-_

You immediately stepped back again with your hands lifted, worry washing over you. He was definitely not okay. His cry of agony had permeated the walls and through your earpiece you got the question if you were all right or if they should take action, so you pressed the little button to activate the device and replied that everything was fine and that they needed to stand back.  
You lowered your hand and focused on Loki again. Whatever was going on with him it was very, very bad. It didn't seem like an overreaction at all, no melodrama or theatrics, and so from the intensity of his pain a ruptured spleen wouldn't be very likely. There were no signs of internal bleeding either – and if there was, he should probably have been dead by now- and even though internal bruising was possible it often didn't elicit such a response either. 

And then it clicked. 

“Loki, I need you to be honest with me if you want to get better. I want you to lift whatever magic you're using to hide your injuries.” 

He didn't seem to be hearing you. He stood as if frozen, leaning against the mirror with wide yet unseeing eyes aimed at the floor and chest rising and falling with every quick breath. 

_He was back inside the void, the torture continuing yet this time because he had failed to execute the plan. He couldn't live like this – please, please just stop-_

Your eyes widened when a tear slid down his cheek and dripped from his jaw, soon followed by a second one. 

“Please, no,” he begged. “I haven't failed-” His already quiet voice broke and left him altogether; face contorted in deepest agony he kept staring into nothingness while his mind was back in his own Hel. 

The desperation and pain in his tone broke your heart, and his words... What was he so afraid of failing at? He seemed to be reliving a traumatic memory and you needed to talk him through it, to help him out of it, so you pulled yourself together and calmly spoke up. 

“Loki? Loki, listen to me. I am Agent Smith and you are here with me in the Medical Exam Room. This room is safe. You are safe, Loki; nothing here can hurt you.” 

He was still hyperventilating, still out of it. You repeated the sentence.

_A voice, getting clearer and clearer, followed by a faint scent that made him breathe in deeply as if to catch it inside his lungs. A tug within his chest, warmth but in a soothing way, a familiarity he couldn't place yet calmed him nonetheless._

“You're safe here with me, Loki. Nothing can happen to you in this room.” 

_He chased the scent, chased the feeling, let the words guide him back to his trembling body._

“Breathe in... breathe out; slowly.” 

The first thing to return was his sense of smell. Every breath made him calmer, pulled him back a little more. Then came his sight, and he blinked the gathered tears from his waterlines until they spilled. 

“Feel the floor beneath your feet. You're here with me. You're safe.” 

Finally he regained control over his muscles. His hands clenched into fists but released right after as he lacked the strength to keep it up. A deep breath in... and a slow breath out. He didn't dare to meet her gaze.

“Please ignore that...” His voice was quiet and weak, a little raspy from the strain on his lungs, and he let out a mirthless huff. “Just another party trick for you.” 

Your heart contracted and for a moment you didn't know what to say. He wanted you to ignore the obvious pain he was in? The visible terror you had seen in his eyes? You pushed it aside for now and focused on actions; quickly getting the desk chair and pulling it closer to set it beside him so he could take a seat – and he did. He lowered himself with a soft groan and sighed once he sat, running a hand through his raven hair. 

A few more moments of silence passed before the words came to you. Then, softly: 

“Is there anything I can do for you right now? A glass of water maybe?” 

“Please.” 

Less than a minute later you handed it to him and he downed it in a few, quick swigs, and you refilled his glass and he drank it all greedily once more. Four full glasses more before he nodded that it was enough.  
After setting the glass aside you leaned against the desk and studied him for a moment. PTSD would have to be incorporated in your report yet you hesitated: if they found out what his triggers were, Shield would be able to torture him without even putting much effort into it. Loki's own mind would do it for them. 

You knew that it hadn't just been your touch that had triggered his flashback. 

“You're hiding your injuries.” A statement, gently spoken. “I need to see them to be able to treat them, Loki.”

“I'd rather spare you the sight.”

But after seeing the determined look in your eyes he sighed again, and slowly, very slowly, the first layer of his magic faded. His pale skin grew paler and lost its healthy glow and his red, bloodshot eyes were sunken with dark circles below them; his lips dry and flaky and his skin covered in a light sheen of sweat. Signs of dehydration and hyperthermia – yet when you had touched him his skin had been remarkably cool. It didn't stop there, though. The second layer of magic dissipated and you lay a gloved hand over your mouth in silent horror.  
Parts of the skin on his abdomen and waist were charred like it had been burned over and over again, surrounded by blisters and such redness you immediately knew these were third-, sometimes even _fourth_ degree burns. Red streaks on his shoulders and upper chest as if hot oil had run down them, and there were many indescribable wounds around and over older yet still unhealed ones. 

The contents of your stomach rose up and your hand tightened over your mouth as you closed your eyes and forced it down again, the urge to gag a constant hum in the back of your throat. 

The intensity of the pain he must still be feeling was unimaginable. How... just- how? How had he been so theatrical? How had he smiled, grinned, joked; and how the fuck had he fought against Captain fucking America and almost _won_?! You were now certain that Loki definitely deserved the red colour status. 

And then, after he visibly hesitated, the seemingly final layer disappeared. 

He grew taller, a little broader, and though his wounds stayed as they were the colour of his eyes and his skin began to change. His eyes turned red and blue crept over the rest of his body; in places with the fewest injuries or scars you saw something akin to decorative lines and intricate patterns appear – and you couldn't help but think how beautiful he would have looked if it hadn't been for his injuries. 

“Are you done staring? No need to remind me of how repulsive I look,” he spat; but without true venom. He just sounded exhausted and in pain. “You can just write me off as a lost case and be done with it.” 

It felt like there were daggers inside your chest, your heart aching as if you wanted to take some of his pain to make it easier on him, but you did as he asked and averted your gaze to the side where you spotted a box of tissues. You grabbed it and hesitantly held it out for him to take from it. 

“I don't think you look repulsive, but you are definitely in need of medical attention. Will you allow me to help you?” 

It was his turn to stare at you, his deep-red eyes mesmerising beyond words; but he quickly averted them when another tear slipped down his cheek and he ripped a tissue from the box to dry it off. 

“If you don't have anything better to do. Aren't there any wailing heroes out there needing your help?” He scoffed, the mockery distracting him from his pain if only for a moment. 

You resumed your position against the desk. “Well, I am part of the medical team here at Shield, but my work is more focused on the people they bring in rather than their own agents. You are my priority right now. I'll be meeting with you daily to check up on your injuries and to talk with you. I'll be... I'll be like a confidante to you - someone you can talk to if you want.” 

Is that why she hadn't shown fear? Because she was used to working with criminals and villains like him? And yet even now, in his monstrous form, she seemed unbothered. Casual, even; and dare he say a little worried. 

“You are far too kind to someone who killed a man for his eye mere hours ago.” Bitterness seeping from every word. 

With his eyes still trained on her he saw how the corner of her lips tugged sideways. What – did she not care that he was a murderer? 

“I don't think he's dead, actually. After you were done with him I called the alarm number, so I'm sure they got him to the hospital in time. Unless you wanted him dead? In that case you could've been more thorough.” Her lips twitched upward just a little more. 

Was she actually making jokes right now? A huffed chuckle left him before he could stop himself. “Thorough... Right.” 

A few seconds of silence. Then: 

“Why did you need his eye?” 

“He was a means to an end; nothing more and nothing less.”

Another pause. 

“I know you're probably not comfortable with telling me how you got those injuries, and I won't ask, but I do need to treat them or they might get infected. I can give you pain suppressors to make it a little more bearable, as well as something to keep your wounds clean.” 

He gave a nondescript hum. “Do whatever you deem necessary, but know that my body heals far quicker than that of a mortal. Your help might not be needed in a few days time.” 

It would all be meaningless if he failed to execute the plan, however - Thanos would make sure he suffered just as much as he had before, probably even more so. It was a fool's errand to try and restore his body to a healthy state. The mention of him healing at a faster rate seemed to pique her interest, though. 

“Does that mean these wounds will close up nicely without the treatment of a professional?” 

“Yes.”

Pfew, that saved you a lot of trouble: now there was no need to convince Agent Coulson or Director Fury that Loki needed surgical care for his burns, which they most likely wouldn't have given him anyway, and it certainly saved you a lot of time that you would have spent cleaning and dressing his wounds. Being able to heal so quickly... it was a remarkable feat - but it did raise another concern: if you included it in your report, Shield might try to use that knowledge to their advantage. They could take the Asgardian's blood or cells to try and create healing serums, or maybe even weapons of some sort. You would think about it later. 

“I'll just clean and dress your injuries for now and we'll see how far they've healed tomorrow morning.” 

And he allowed you to; responding to your requests such as 'hold out this arm' or 'stand up and turn around please' without complaining about it or getting another flashback. It was honestly a relief how easy he was to work with. No outbursts of anger or violence, no inappropriate touches, and he hadn't even once grabbed her by the throat! You certainly had hope for him.  
Though his hisses and groans or pain were hard to listen to you worked swiftly and accurately, and before too long the wounds on his torso and arms had been taken care of. You stepped back and nodded in satisfaction. 

“How's that?” 

Everything still hurt, obviously, but he had to admit that he already felt a change. Perhaps him preparing himself for her touch had kept him from relapsing, or maybe her small talk had kept him grounded – either way he was glad it hadn't happened again; and with his injuries taken care of some kind of relief washed over him. 

“It is adequate.” 

No 'thank you' despite the spark of gratefulness inside of him, and no tears despite the overwhelming feeling of safety he experienced for the first time in years. He wasn't truly safe, he never was; but for some reason he felt like he could breathe now. Like he could rest a little before needing to continue his calamitous mission.  
He left his body as it was, the reprieve from hiding behind layers of magic another massive relief he wasn't ready to give up on yet, and her still not seeming bothered by his grotesque form was confusing yet welcome. He didn't trust her yet, though. 

“What else are you planning to do to me, doctor? Now that you know my secret you could run off and tell that captain of yours; give him more options to torture me for information.”

A slight frown pulled your eyebrows together at hearing his assumption. “If I was going to let them harm you then why would I patch you up in the first place?” You took off your gloves and dropped them in the bin. “No, there will be no torture or pain-based interrogations. I'm sure your brother wouldn't like that idea either. As for what I still plan on 'doing to you', however...” 

You lowered your gaze to his covered legs, his pants revealing nothing about the most likely wounded flesh beneath. 

“I have a feeling that your injuries aren't limited to your torso; but we will look at that tomorrow.” Your eyes moved back up to meet his ruby ones. “Are there any other questions you want to ask before you're escorted back to your cell for the psychological assessment? Our sessions won't be recorded or listened to, so there is no need to worry about that.” 

He studied her, like he had done oftentimes before – and still he didn't seem to be able to make sense of her. She was an enigma, a riddle, a mystery. Perhaps he could save her when Barton came to crash the Helicarrier, just so he would have more time to figure her out. Would he be able to convince her to join his side or should he kidnap her instead? 

“Nothing that comes to mind,” he replied a little absently. 

“All right, good. I am going to clean up here quick but I'll join you in your cell in a few moments.” 

You gave him the chance to reconstruct his concealment layer by layer before setting a finger to the device in your ear, unable to hide your satisfied smile as you spoke. 

“Physical assessment is done; please escort Sir Odinson back to his cell.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Please, don't google 4th degree burns; I did it so none of you would need to!


	6. Barton

After the Shield agents had escorted Loki back to his cell Coulson arrived at the medical room; and he was alone with Agent Smith for the first time since meeting her. He sauntered inside and looked around a little while she cleaned up and put everything back in its original place. Everything seemed normal. He had been informed that Loki had screamed, however, and so something must have been wrong... right? He studied the fearless agent at the desk, so calm and collected. Not a scratch on her skin.

“How did it go?” 

Apparently she had been lost in thought and his voice had startled her back to reality, but her light smile told him she didn't mind; and she replied cheerfully enough. 

“Better than expected, really. Apart from being a little stubborn and more than just a little guarded he was actually quite cooperative. I patched up his injuries but it hurt more than he was inclined to admit - hence the scream when I touched him. But yeah, otherwise everything went well; and I'm still alive and unharmed, so that's a plus.” She winked, keeping the mood light. “I don't expect Mr. Odinson to cause me a lot of trouble during our sessions.” 

He nodded silently, answering her smile with one of his own. She couldn't have known that Loki wouldn't hurt her, though, could she? Still she had agreed to go in there with him alone, and now that it was done she even joked about still being alive. Did she really trust her judgment of character that much? She might be trained to read people and to analyse their behaviour, but she had gotten a mere few hours before being put into a room with him – of which only one might have been truly helpful. Professional or not, the guess had been more than just a little risky. 

“I sincerely hope you're right. Mr. Stark and Dr. Banner are working on the Tesseract's whereabouts as we speak, as well as trying to figure out whatever they can about the scepter, so we will hopefully have some answers regarding Loki's plans soon. Still I hope-” 

But he was interrupted by his earpiece and he lifted a finger to let her know he was preoccupied for a second, then pressed the little button and listened to the report that came in. 

Agent Barton had been found and captured. 

After a few seconds of listening he looked back at Agent Smith. “They found Barton – he's not good. We may need you.” 

 

You frowned. Agent Barton? That was a first. 

“Are you sure? I was hired for criminals, not for the agents. If it turns out he needs more thorough attention I will need a higher clearance to get access to his medical records and previous psychological assessments.” 

And, of course, that would mean a pay rise. The higher your clearance, the more important you were; and thus the more money you made. That didn't sound too bad at all! Even though you had no idea if you would actually be of any help. Well, no harm in trying; right? 

“Unfortunately this seems like a case you're best suited for: right now, Agent Barton is considered a high class criminal on par with Loki. I can't give you any details just yet, but consider this a promotion – if you choose to accept, of course.” 

You could tell by the look in his eyes that you were probably the only option they had right now. Come to think of it, you had never even heard a single word about another therapist or psychologist on board. Were you the only one? Talk about bad management. Still, that bad management had just gotten you a rise, and it was hard to hide the satisfied glint in your eyes – yet you kept it casual and nodded. 

“I accept, and I'll do everything in my power to return him to his previous healthy state. Where is he being held?” 

Coulson led the way and you only partly listened to him explain why they had chosen to put him in a cell for now despite him being an agent, because your thoughts drifted back to what he had said just seconds ago. On par with Loki? You definitely doubted that. After seeing how much pain the man could endure while still seeming energetic and untroubled? Still managing to hide it all behind layers and layers of magic he constantly had to keep up? It was almost a compliment to say that Agent Barton was 'on par' with Loki, but it was also a big, big misunderstanding. Not that they knew though. Not yet, anyway. 

It appeared you were lucky: the moment the two of you entered the secured room Barton seemed to be returning to consciousness. Agent Romanov was already with him, and though she didn't look up when you came in everyone knew she was aware of it. She always was.  
Since you knew about their friendship you took your place against the back wall to give them some space, let them talk for a bit while you and Coulson observed. 

"How are you feeling?" She looked at Barton with slightly squinted eyes, examining him - and when he met her gaze she seemed relieved at what she saw. "You're back." 

The captured agent grunted and tried to lay a hand on his face, but the shackles made it impossible. "Y-yeah. Yeah I'm back. But it's still - I've got no window, I have to flush him out." His speech was breathy, heaving, troubled. He was sweating with exertion too, as if his mind was still fighting against the control. 

"You've got to level out. It's going to take time," Romanov replied as she got him some water. 

"You don't understand. Have you ever had someone take your brain and play? Pull you out and stuff something else in?" A pause. "Do you know what it's like to be unmade?" His eyes were distant.

Agent Romanov seemed unimpressed, yet still a little worried. 

"You know that I do." 

Barton didn't have a response to that. He tried to calm his breathing, tried to calm his mind. "Why am I back? How did you get him out?" 

"Cognitive recalibration. I hit you really hard on the head." She sat down beside him on the medical bed. It was the first time you saw Ms. Romanov smile so caringly. 

"Thanks." 

Another pause. 

"Natasha... How many agents did I-" 

"Don't. Don't do that to yourself, Clint." She unshackled him, convinced he was safe again. 

It was almost too intimate of a moment and you felt a little like you were seeing something you shouldn't, so you lowered your eyes as you waited beside Agent Coulson. 

"This is Loki," Romanov continued. "This is monsters and magic and nothing we were ever trained for." 

"Loki - did he get away?" 

"No. We have him here." 

"I don't know how much of his plan can go through without me. I... I was supposed to attack the ship; blow up the motors to get him out. He could still try to make a move." He sighed. "Well, either way; if I put an arrow through his eye socket I would sleep better, I suppose." 

It shocked you a little to hear them talk about Mr. Odinson that way - and the fact that you were shocked about it, shocked you even more. Why would you care? And wasn't it to be expected? Of course they wanted him dead after what he did. Your patient or not, he was still a criminal; and criminals weren't generally liked. 

Coulson stepped in. “We would love to hear any information you might have on Loki and where the Tesseract is located. Neither of you had it on you when we apprehended you.” 

“I don't think I have much to tell you. He only told me enough to play my part; nothing more nothing less.” 

“Even small things can help. Try to remember.” 

A few moments later in the conversation you were introduced, and though Agent Barton understood that it was necessary he definitely didn't look forward to it. While he and Romanov rounded up their conversation you turned to Coulson again. 

“What about my planned session with Mr. Odinson? I assume Agent Barton has priority?”

“Yes. Loki doesn't pose a threat being locked up in that cell; he can wait.” 

He gave her a last smile by means of goodbye and left to attend to whatever other duties he might have.   
Romanov left, too; yet not without giving you a warning glance on the way out – one that made a light shiver run down your spine. Everyone knew not to fuck with her or those she cared for. You were on dangerous grounds right now.   
But, with both her and Coulson gone, you gestured for Barton to sit down on the cell bed again and pulled a chair close for yourself; taking a seat as well. 

“First things first: how are you feeling?” 

“Like crap,” he huffed, and let out a sigh. “My head feels scrambled and exhausted, but at least I'm in control again.” 

You nodded and wrote it all down as you led him through the session. The conversation went smoothly and he was honest and open, nothing like most criminals you spoke with; and luckily, at the end of it, you could conclude that he would be fine with a few weeks of taking it easy and and a couple more talks to start processing his trauma. Maybe you should switch to Agents anyway – they were a whole lot easier to deal with.   
You thanked him for his cooperation and made an appointment for the next meet-up, then left him unshackled and moved back into the hallways; your finger finding the device in your ear. 

“Agent Coulson? The Tesseract is with a man named Erik Selvig. Agent Barton doesn't know where he is but the man has the materials needed to continue Loki's plan without him needing to necessarily be there.” 

 

 

 

Loki could feel the mindstone; the thrum in the back of his head weak but still present. The scepter must be affecting the 'heroes' at this point, and the thought brought a wicked grin to his face. Soon that agent he had corrupted would blow up this damned aircraft and the green monster would break loose, causing a chain reaction that would eventually lead to his freedom, and he would be able to continue this hellish quest he couldn't escape. Well, he could continue any moment he wished, of course. A cage like this was in no way sophisticated enough to hold a god captive, let alone one with teleportation magic. He could sigh at the stupidity of mortals sometimes. But he needed them for his own little plans – the ones Thanos was not aware of.   
He could only hope it would be enough to stop the Titan when push came to shove. 

 

 

You finished the report on Clint's state and sent it to Agent Coulson and Agent Hill, who would make sure to update Captain Fury, then closed your laptop with a sigh. This had been a hell of a long day. First the party, watching Odinson's theatrics, the fight, and his eventual capture; then having his brother barge in and kidnap him only for Rogers to retrieve the guy and get him on board again, and then the flight to the Helicarrier. The intense physical examination was not to be underestimated when it came to draining energy either, then add on a long session with Agent Barton and you had one tired-ass therapist on your hands. So you took a nice, hot shower to relieve your muscles of some of the tension, finished your evening routine, and crawled into bed. Gods the sheets felt comfortable – exactly what you needed right now. You would have to rest well if your guesses about tomorrow would turn out to be true. 

Luckily you slept without trouble, without nightmares, and without interruptions; waking up well-rested the morning after when the sound of your alarm pulled you back to the world of the awake. 

Since Barton was still the priority you spend the morning talking to him in his own room, to which he had been moved after your report had been revised and approved, and noted that the man was far from being his old self again but was quickly recovering from the mind control. By the end of the conversation he seemed clearer already.   
One more written report and a shot of medicine later and it was time to move on to the next patient, the one you had actually been looking forward to. Well, maybe not exactly that, but you were curious about him at the very least. Who wouldn't be? This man was from another world! And though mutants and superpowers had become just another part of life, the evidence that there were sentient creatures in space was still rather new to society. Not everyone took it so well. 

You grabbed your bag and checked if everything was there before leaving your room and making your way to the 'Fishbowl': the cell containing Loki. 

This was going to be interesting.


	7. Assessment

He had spent the evening and night waiting for Agent Smith to return for the promised psychological assessment and had even felt a slight sting of disappointment when he realised she wouldn't come. She hadn't lied – he would have known if she had – so something must have come up, because he doubted she had forgotten about him. He had paced his room, had lied down on the small, uncomfortable bed, and had then moved to the chair an hour or two later; staring at the door he expected her to come through at any given moment. Yet nothing had happened. He wondered what exactly had been more important for her to postpone or even cancel their little 'date' – because surely he was the one with the information they needed? 

He didn't sleep, though. It would leave him even more vulnerable than he already was, and even though he was a trickster he wasn't too keen on being surprised himself – because being surprised meant being caught off-guard, and being caught off-guard was a dangerous, dangerous thing; especially to a person most people wanted dead. 

But in the morning she finally came and he watched her flash her badge to the guards posted outside his cell, who then left the room to wait outside. It seemed she was keeping her second promise at least. 

 

You moved to the glass cell, and after typing in the code you let yourself in without a single worry about Mr. Odinson escaping. He would have tried by now, anyway, if he had really wanted to get out. You met his gaze with a professional smile and gestured for him to take a seat on his bed so you could take the chair. 

“Good morning; slept well? Ready for the assessment?” You pulled the chair closer to the bed while he moved, taking your seat and setting your bag down beside you. 

“A god doesn't need as much sleep as a mortal does,” he stated offhandedly, studying you in the meantime with that piercing gaze of his. There was an air of mockery about him when he continued: “You seem as though you slept perfectly fine, however. Not a hair out of place.” 

The corner of your mouth twitched up a little but you hid your amusement well. 'Not a hair out of place' sounded more like a compliment than mockery, but he was probably trying to keep you at a distance so he could stay guarded and seem unapproachable, unwilling to cooperate. Rather peculiar, if you thought about how he had almost done the exact opposite with his flamboyant theatrics yesterday. It made you wonder if distance was truly what he wanted. 

“Let's start, shall we?” 

You got out your notebook and pen before meeting his gaze again. 

“How would you define your mental health? As far as you know or can tell, is there anything you're struggling with? Depression, anxiety, stress; anything like that?” 

“Does it matter?” 

“Very much so.” 

“Then no.” 

Bullshit. You could see it in the coldness of his gaze; how he had solidified his imaginary barriers around himself, how he wanted you to stay out and mind your own business. You had seen him go through a traumatic flashback for fucks sake – why did he think you would believe him when he said he wasn't struggling with anything? You lifted an eyebrow at him. 

“Again, I need you to be honest with me, Loki.” 

He stayed silent, gaze unwavering.  
You sighed. Next question, then. 

“Is there any medication you use? If so, what kind?”

“Why would I need medication when I have magic to heal myself far quicker and more thorough than some concoction ever could?” 

All right, fair point. Still, his magic could apparently use some help, considering how intense his injuries had been. Your eyes moved to his chest for a moment even though you couldn't see the bandaging beneath his clothes or magic. Would his wounds have healed more already? How much better was he doing? Tomorrow you were going to change his bandages, so you would have to be patient for a little longer.  
Loki noticed the little detour of your eyes however and apparently took it as an insult, his expression growing sharper. 

“That does not mean it works _instantly_.” 

You ignored the snide. 

“Are there any mental health issues that run in your family?” 

He clenched his jaw a little tighter, a few seconds passing before he spoke. “I was adopted. If that does not matter, then stupidity, recklessness, and hypocrisy are a few of the many things I can name. If it's information about my biological parents you need then I am afraid I cannot provide it.” 

Slight empathy made your gaze grow softer. “You never knew them?” 

“Well, I met my father – who, in case you weren't aware, was a Frost Giant - before I knew I was his son. And then I killed him.” 

His smirk grew at seeing your eyes widen a little, though it lacked any mirth. It was just another defense mechanism. You wrote it all down, realising it might be best to continue the assessment for now and return to this topic later. 

“Let's skip this part of the assessment, then, and move on to the next.” You ran past the questions inside your head and filtered out those which would be useless, such as asking about his current job. “What is your relationship status? Are you currently married or bonded?”

“My, my, dear agent; first the safe words and consent, and now this? Is it not a little unprofessional to show interest in one of your patients?” 

You wanted to drag a hand down your face in frustration but instead took a deep breath and slowly exhaled. “I will write that down as unmarried and not bonded. Then, let's see... What was your upbri-”

“Why don't we talk about you instead?” He folded his hands together and rested them on his knees as he leaned forward a little, his gaze as examining as ever. “Something about you is off; your scent does not make sense.”

Your heart missed a beat, slight panic threatening to bubble up – but you hid it and focused on staying calm. On distracting him. 

“These sessions are about you, not me. Now please tell me, what was your upbringing like?” 

He continued as if he hadn't even heard a word of what you had just said. “My sense of smell is stronger than those of any Midgardian, especially in my Jotun form, and yet I still haven't been able to figure out what is wrong with your scent. Tell me, agent; what dirty little secrets are you hiding? What is it that makes you so different from all the other Betas here on this forsaken planet? You act so collected yet it is your job to hide behind a mask. Don't think you can lie to the God of Lies himself.” 

Your face was the very definition of 'unamused', but it was exactly as he had said: a mask. A disguise to hide your fear. 

You ignored his words like he had ignored yours. “Perhaps we should move on to something more engaging; something that can hold your focus for a bit longer.” You took the cards from your bag and showed him the first; a black inkblot in the centre of it. “Tell me what you see in them; there is no right or wrong answer. Just see it as a fun little game.” 

 

He could see the light panic in her eyes despite her attempt at hiding it, and he knew he had found something very interesting indeed. Since she had most likely worked with criminals worse than him, who asked more invasive questions and perhaps demanded the answers to them in more physical ways, he was certain she would keep dancing around his inquiries; and he concluded that this would need some precise work. Some sly, well-aimed questions at the right times. His usual tactic of intimidation didn't work on her, he knew that much, and seeing as she was intelligent and observing he would have to put more thought into it than usual. Perhaps he would have to be charming and cooperative instead? Make her feel more comfortable opening up to him about herself? Though he doubted she would share her secrets with him.  
Perhaps if he could seduce her... Would that work? He had never tried something like that before, mostly because everyone so far had either hated him or feared him. But not her. She didn't fear him, not even in his Jotun form, and she certainly didn't seem to hate him. She had been kind, gentle, patient – yet unimpressed by his behaviour and calling him out on his lies. He knew it was all part of her profession, though. But...

Was there a chance she could fall in love with him?

His chest tightened in a strange way. The idea of someone, _anyone_ , being able to love him seemed foolishly unrealistic at best; let alone in the little time he had until Agent Barton came to break him out. Was it even worth a try? Well, if he decided to save her from the destruction of this aircraft and kidnap her, then he might have plenty of time to unravel her and the mystery surrounding her. Could he do it? Could he be charming enough to win over her heart? Another soft tug inside his chest.  
He would have to be careful – she would undoubtedly notice a shift between the tone of his responses. He would need to start out slow, careful; make her believe that he was warming up to her. So he let his eyes glance over the card she was holding up.

“I see the void,” he said with a disinterested wave of his hand.

She wrote it down, aware that he wasn't joking around. “The void... That's not an answer I get very often. Do you mean a literal void or a more symbolic one; or did you say that because you're having trouble seeing shapes in the ink?” 

A little smile made the corners of his lips curl up ever so slightly. “I have seen things you could only dream of.” Or see in your worst nightmares; but he was smart enough not to lead the conversation down that road. 

He hadn't answered with much thought however, and inspected the card a little more thoroughly. What was the point of it? Were the associations he had with shapes important or was she just doing this by means of making him open up more? He frowned.

“Why, what do you see?” 

She flipped the card so it was facing her instead, and for the few seconds she looked at it her expression had a sort of melancholy to it. “I don't see too much, I'm afraid. I suppose I lack imagination.” 

A lie. 

She put the card down and lifted the second. “How about this one?” 

He eyed her silently for a few seconds. Then: “This is not the assessment you should be carrying out, is it?” A sigh. “Continue with your questions; I'll answer.”

That made her still, blinking at him in surprise. “Will you answer me honestly?” 

He leaned back, resting against the glass wall behind him, and began to mentally brace himself for whatever she was going to ask.

“Perhaps.” 

The answer seemed satisfying enough, if her smile was anything to go by. 

“All right. Then, what was your childhood like? Your adoptive parents – were they good to you?” 

“It was... below par,” he slowly admitted, a little more quietly than he had initially wanted. “Odin surely lacked in the parenting department; and though mother was kind and gentle-hearted she couldn't do much to change it.” His eyebrows rose in unimpressed scorn.“Thor was and still is an idiot, but the shadow he cast... He was always their favourite. Loved by our parents, loved by the palace, loved by the realm. Enough potential friends and lovers to choose from. They never gave me a chance to prove myself worthy of their time and affection, and when I tried to show it to them they let me fall into an abyss and continued their lives without me.” Venom had crept into his voice but it was only to hide how much it hurt, and when his eyes focused again he could see that she was able to tell. Of course she was. And the empathy in her gaze, the way she seemed to care -

“Spare me your pity; I have no use for it.” 

But it made his heart contract just a little more. 

 

His scars ran deep, didn't they? All he had wanted was to be loved equally by his adoptive parents. You couldn't help the way it stung when you saw the sorrow and pain in his eyes, when you heard it beneath his hateful tone, and though you didn't forget about this man being a criminal and murderer you began to doubt the truthfulness of those statements. So far he had injured a guy, yes; but he had lived – and though Loki had just told you that he had killed his own biological father the context was still unknown. You had a feeling that in this case it mattered. Because if you were to trust your instincts then Mr. Odinson was not a violent man at all, and him being here was beyond his control somehow; not to mention the fact that he was an alien from a different culture and who knew what the Frost Giants were like? You didn't allow yourself to jump to conclusions, though – if he turned out to be some kind of manipulating psychopath after all then you could honestly just resign from your job altogether. It was dangerous to sympathize with your patients, but in some amounts it was needed; to get them to talk, and to guide them back to the right path. It would be fine as long as it didn't cross the line of professionalism. 

So you looked him in his eyes, voice soft and matter-of-fact as you gave him the words he had possibly hoped to hear for most of his life:

“No child should ever have to prove themselves worthy of love. No one, not even an adult, should be forced to live that way - if you live right, then you deserve love without conditions.” 

For a lingering moment he just stared at you, a mix of emotions swirling in his eyes, and you knew your words had struck him deep - yet he seemed to decide not to let his guard down just yet and visibly pushed whatever he was feeling back before averting his gaze.  
He cleared his throat. 

“Let's continue on to the next question, shall we?” 

You ignored the poison lacing his words, observed the way his shoulders had tensed. 

“What is it that you truly want, Loki?” 

That made him look back. 

“What do you mean?” 

You put the notepad down in your lap to show him your full attention lay with him. “You hide your true intentions and thoughts behind mockery, insults, theatrics, and snide; you keep your distance from people around you yet you are polite and keep from turning violent - which, in addition to your curiosity and your cooperation so far, gives me the feeling that you are not the criminal they make you out to be. Therefore my question is: what do you want?” 

When he didn't reply you continued. 

“I know you are an intelligent man. I can tell. But the things you have done so far seem... out of character for you.” 

He then scoffed. “Perhaps you're wrong about me, agent. Perhaps I am a violent man – a monster, a nightmare; chaos and destruction incarnate. Perhaps you should reconsider and fear me instead.” A sharp reply, frustration and self-loathing sounding through – but it only confirmed your suspicions. 

“I don't think you want me to fear you.” 

His voice lowered dangerously. “Don't assume things about me, doctor. A mere mortal like yourself couldn't even begin to understand the intricacies of gods. If you are foolish enough not to fear me then worship me like a deity deserves, or at the very least keep from conforming me to your assumptions.” 

Every word he uttered said so much about him and he didn't even seem to realise it. To worship him – that might be the closest thing to what he truly wanted. Attention, acceptation, reverence.  
Love. 

"I know you don't trust me, and you might not believe me either. That's fine by me. But everything you say tells me a lot about you as a person, Loki. Do you know you talk in contradictions? You tell me you are a god, that you are to be worshipped, and yet you call yourself a monster and expect me to fear you. Your godliness is your protection, what you hope to be and what you want others to see, and the part of you that you call monstrous is what you fear you are. What you might not want to be. Yes, I am assuming things now, but I think you miss connection in your life. You seek attention yet keep people at a distance because you don't know how to deal with them getting too close. You crave acceptation, yet you're scared of the monstrous side of yourself." 

There was no pity in her eyes as she knew he didn't appreciate it, but there was a mix of worry and care still. 

“You're right, though. There is far more to you, a deeper complexity that I can't simply make sense of in a few hours since having met you – but I want to help you, I want to guide you to recovery.” 

You closed your notebook for good and put it back into your bag, then met his gaze again. 

"I want you to remember that I am not here to hurt you or belittle you. I want to help you heal, yet it's up to you to decide if you want that yourself as well. If you don't then that's okay - we will just continue the test and I won't say another word; but if you do want to talk, about whatever, anything you want... then I'm here for that. I won't write it down, it will be just between us." 

Silence.  
An undefinable whirlwind of emotions in the crystalline blue.

You allowed him to think, allowed him to _feel_ without interrupting him, patiently waiting until he looked away again and spoke. 

“I have said too much as it is.” 

A soft smile. “Let's end the session here, then; I'll see you tomorrow again. I apologise for not showing up yesterday evening; they needed me elsewhere - Agent Barton has priority until it's certain that he is recovering well.” 

 

Slight panic rose within him twice at what she said – the first time at the notion of her leaving, the second time at the mention of Barton. Had he been caught? Had the plan failed? Perhaps the agent could break out and still cause the chaos needed to set loose the Hulk, but otherwise Loki would have to do it himself. Now, to be fair, he wasn't in too much of a rush – and quite honestly he would rather give up altogether – but his sanity was at stake and he wasn't keen on losing the only thing he had left. Everlasting torture was not something he looked forward to. 

“Have you got all the information you need, then? No desire to dig deeper and uncover all the secrets your boss is aching to know?” Another bolt of panic when she stood and hung her bag over her shoulder.

“I'll be back tomorrow,” she replied with a reassuring smile, but it did nothing to soothe him. “I'll check up on your injuries as well, so expect to be taken to the exam room. See you tomorrow, Loki.” 

And off she went, the glass door sliding shut and locking behind her again, and his gaze followed her until she stepped out of the room and moved out of sight; the guards returning instead. 

He hated that it was _loneliness_ he felt once she was gone.


	8. Intermission

Loki had reacted almost the exact way you had predicted him to: he hadn't wanted to lose his audience, hadn't wanted the only person offering connection to leave, and it had shown in the way his shoulders had tensed and in how his questions had given you the opportunity to change your mind and stay. You almost felt bad for leaving anyway.   
Halfway down the hall you notified Coulson through your earpiece, telling him that Loki hadn't even as much as threatened to truly harm you, and the man replied with relief in his voice. 

_“Good. Nothing out of the ordinary? Any information yet?”_

“Nothing so far.”

You hesitated for a few seconds, finger still on the device and keeping the line open. 

_“Is... everything all right?”_

You sighed and decided to just go for it. “I would like to ask for a favour, but I am not sure if what I'm asking for is realistic.” 

_“It's always worth a try, I'd say.”_

That made you smile. 

“I would like full responsibility. Over Mr. Odinson, that is. I don't want any other psychologist being flown in for him, I don't want any agent to try and get information out of him, and I definitely don't want anyone to hurt him physically. Can you... Can you make that happen? I'll step down in clearance or paycheck if I have to.” It almost made you cringe to say that out loud. Money was the only thing keeping your life together right now, but you would be able to make do with a little less. “Mr. Odinson might not be violent, but if Director Fury starts poking him with a stick I have a feeling he might very well lash out anyway. Let me handle this.” 

The heavy sigh that came from the other end of the line conjured the image of Coulson pinching the bridge of his nose in thought. 

_“I can't guarantee anything, but I'll see what I can do to get you more time. Fury isn't exactly known for his patience.”_

Still, you knew he was going to try everything he could, and it made your smile widen just a little more. Maybe you should buy him something like flowers next time the Helicarrier landed on solid ground again. 

“Thank you; I promise that this will work. Loki craves to be heard and so I'll listen to him, let him talk until he spills his secrets; he will give us the information we need before he realises it himself. Hurt him and he will just pull up another wall.” 

You were pretty sure that torture wouldn't work at all, considering what he must have gone through before being caught in Stuttgart. Or... maybe it _would_ work very well, since he was already vulnerable and injured? Was that how that worked? You didn't know, since you weren't specialised in torture or anything like that, but you felt the strange need to protect this man from any further harm - and so that was what you were going to do. 

_“I hope you're right,”_ Coulson replied. _“Oh, and I almost forgot: Fury wants to minimize the chances of Loki escaping, so he would prefer it if you did the physical checkup in the Fishbowl instead. No need to move him through the hallways and you can stay on Blackout like before. Will that be a problem?”_

“Not at all, Sir.” 

_“Good. I look forward to reading your report.”_

The both of you mutually dropped the line, and you continued about your day.


	9. Hopeless

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Here you go, twice the length of a normal chapter! I'd love to hear your opinion, so be sure to leave a comment down below! ♡

The next morning couldn't come soon enough. This 'cage' was beginning to bore him and the bed was beginning to look more and more inviting with every sleepless hour that passed. Usually he would consider himself a patient man, and yet... Something had changed. It wasn't the fact that he was 'alone', as he could usually amuse himself well enough on his own; and he wasn't too anxious about his quest failing anymore either. He had thought about it long and hard and had given his team of brainwashed agents two more days to come break him out. If Barton had managed to get the materials to Selvig then the constructing of the portal could continue, and once Loki had retrieved his scepter everything would just resume as planned.  
But then what was it that made him pace the room? What was it that made him so irritable? So annoyed with silence to the point he had even tried to start talking to the guards? Insulting them wasn't nearly as fun when they acted like he wasn't even there; like they couldn't even hear him.

The only thing he had to look forward to was the doctor's little visits. 

When the door opened and she entered the room all he could think was _finally_ , watching her like a hawk as she sent the guards off and joined him inside the glass cage again. A little smirk pulled on the corners of his lips as he stood in the very centre of his cell and opened his arms in a grand gesture. 

“I welcome you to my humble abode once more.” 

It sparked something in him to see her smile at that. 

“Good morning to you too, Loki.”

And good it was indeed; the sound of her voice meaning the end of his boredom. He sat down on the bed like the well-behaved villain that he was, the chair already where she needed it, and he almost felt something akin to excitement. He told himself it was simply because of the distraction. 

“What lovely set of questions do you have for me today, doctor mine?” 

“You seem excited,” she remarked as a light frown joined the smile on her face. She didn't sit down, though; and he noticed her bag was larger than last time. The explanation came soon enough: “I am sorry to disappoint you, but I need to check up on your injuries first.” 

One glance to the empty room outside the cell told him they had reconsidered their tactics: no more escorts to the medical room and therefore less risk of him slipping away. It had taken them long enough to realise their own stupidity. He wasn't looking forward to being all vulnerable around her again, however, and so his expression turned unamused and he waved her words away with a flick of his wrist.

“I can assure you I am doing perfectly fine; no need to worry.” 

She just gave him a look, a no-nonsense aura to her when she planted a hand on her hip. She didn't even need to say his name in warning this time. 

“Please take off your shirt for me, and drop the magic.”

“Trying to command a god never worked out well for a mortal,” he warned, yet the playful glint in his eyes no doubt betrayed him. “Perhaps if you begged I would consider it - I might even take off more than just my shirt.” He couldn't help the smirk returning to his face. Playing games with her was just too much fun. 

She shook her head, but that little amused smile was still there. “I asked nicely, though, didn't I? Now enough with the teasing.” 

She opened her bag and got out her tools and ointments and whatnot, setting the kit on the chair, and he figured he would just have to cooperate again if he wanted to win her favour. Perhaps he could even use it to his advantage. So the moment she looked back up at him he locked his gaze with hers and slowly began to undress for her, magic still in place. 

“Would you like me to take off my pants as well? It could make these little sessions a whole lot more... _satisfying_.” 

He should have guessed she would be immune to his shameless seducing. 

“That would be great, actually; I didn't get to check up on the wounds on your legs last time. Just be sure to leave your underwear on.” 

And if it hadn't been for the playful glint in _her_ eyes it might have felt like ice-cold rejection.  
He hadn't actually expected her to go along with his suggestion, however, and for a moment he simply stood there, lost for words – him, of all people, _lost for words!_ \- and once he recovered from it his grin had been reduced to a tight smile that showed discontent more than anything else. His plan had backfired on him. Wonderful.  
He slowly removed his shoes, socks, and pants; leaving him in nothing but his tight-fitting boxer briefs. They left little to the imagination.

“Want me to juggle a few balls to entertain you while I'm at it?” A little venom laced his words and his eyes stood sharp – until he saw the light blush dusting her cheeks, her gaze wisely averted as she uselessly rummaged to her bag a little. He knew she wasn't searching for anything. 

“If you feel the need then go ahead,” she replied without looking back at him just yet.

His posture relaxed a little, a smug grin reappearing on his face once more. Apparently his seduction had an effect on her after all – or was she merely prude? No, she didn't seem like the type for such bashfulness; especially since it would interfere with her profession. A little spark of pride moved through him at the fact that the sight of his private parts, even while covered, had brought colour to her cheeks. Did she find his size intimidating? Arousing? Was it the slight bulging of his knot below the fabric that had her hiding her blush? If only her scent was clearer and made more sense he might have been able to get some answers. 

He glanced at the cameras, noticing the little lights beside them were off like they had been during their conversation the morning before. Nothing he said or did would be recorded. He could tease her all he liked, could push her buttons until he found something that made her blush deepen, and no one would know. 

The idea was tempting enough. 

Yet he knew he needed to be careful still - he couldn't move too fast or she would pick up on his true intentions. So he casually leaned back a little, conjuring three golden apples and juggling them expertly a few times until she looked at him; and the moment she did he threw them upwards, let them fall, and caught one while the others disappeared into thin air. He sank his teeth into the side of it while looking her straight into her eyes. 

 

This man was dangerous. Not because of the murder allegations or brainwashing, not because of the magic, and not because of the way he was able to endure severe injuries; but because of that sharp jawline, those clear, intelligent eyes, and that wicked smirk of his. There was something about him that pulled you in. Was it his smooth, silvery voice? The way he tried to impress you with his magic? Was it his teasing?  
Whatever it was, you needed to be careful.  
You couldn't allow yourself to be attracted to him in any way, and the fact that you had _blushed_ at seeing the outline of him through his boxer briefs was already bad enough on its own. 

But what was he trying to do? Seduce you so you'd set him free? No, that couldn't be it; he wanted to be here after all. Was he just trying to get you into bed with him, then? Just some kind of challenge he set for himself or his way of trying to take care of his 'needs' despite being locked up? It just didn't make sense. 

“The magic, Loki.” 

“What about it?” He made the apple disappear after only one bite, not needing it anymore now that his little show was over. 

“I can't treat wounds I can't see.” 

“I hadn't assumed differently.” Still he did nothing. 

Why was he suddenly being so difficult again? Was it the new location? Ah, maybe he thought the cameras were still on. 

“I can promise you that no one but I will see: the cameras and mics are off, just like during our talks.” 

His smirk widened just the slightest bit. “How can I trust you, dearest doctor, when I only have your word for it?” Arms held open and wide, as if the question had him at a loss. There was confidence in his pose, though. “How about you take off a few garments as well? It would only be fair, wouldn't it? And it would take away any doubts I might have about your pretty promises.” 

You were having none of his bullshit and simply ignored the whole undressing part. “Whether you trust me or not, I am the only one keeping you healthy and unharmed. So far I've done nothing for you to doubt me, right? I've treated your injuries before, and all I'm asking is for you to show them to me again so I can see how quickly they're healing.”

Probably realising you weren't going to play this game with him he let his magic drop. “Happy now?” There was the bitterness again. 

“Why do you think seeing you in pain makes me happy?” You gently began to unwrap the bandaging, uncovering the wounds beneath, and he had been right: even the worst injuries looked far better. “I'm glad to see you're healing fast.” 

You folded the dirty fabric and put it aside, then returned to inspecting the burns. His skin was mending itself beautifully, and some of the more shallow ones had fully disappeared; leaving nothing but unmarred blue skin. He must look gorgeous when completely healed. Wait, what? You pushed the thought away an moved your inspection to his legs – but the sight made your heart sting. Not a single patch of skin was left untainted by burns and types of wounds you couldn't even place. You probably didn't want to know the cause of them. 

“Isn't seeing an evildoer in pain satisfying to the heroes of the story? I know you merely keep me alive for information; I'm far from ignorant enough to think you actually care.” But his voice was quiet, lacking the usual fire or venom. “As soon as you have what you need there will be no use for me and it won't matter whether I live or die; yet if I withhold the information for too long you will turn to torture instead - isn't that right? Either way, there is no outcome where I am left unharmed.” 

He allowed you to clean his wounds while he talked, not a single waver in his words to indicate he was in pain. A stark contrast to the first time you had touched him. 

“I won't hurt you, Loki; and I won't dispose of you once Shield is done with you. I have guided lots of men and women back to the path they would much rather walk, even after 'being of use'. I am not just a way of getting information out of people. I'm a trained professional, hired to help stray individuals get to the point where they can reintegrate into society and live the life they would much rather live.” You stopped applying the cream to the wounds on his legs for a moment and looked up at him. “I know you might not want my help, and I know you wouldn't exactly benefit from being reintegrated into this world's society, but I won't abandon you. I won't let them hurt you as far as I can help it.” 

The determined look in her eyes, combined with how she knelt in front of him and stared up his towering height... He swallowed hard. He couldn't allow her to actually affect him - _he_ was supposed to be the seductive one here, not her. And she wasn't even aware of it! He made sure to keep a firm layer of illusion magic over his loins in case they would betray him.  
She sighed, finished up taking care of the previously untreated wounds, and bandaged them; then moved to stand back in full height - which was still quite a bit shorter than him in Jotun form. 

“I am the most cooperative agent you will find here, and if you decide you don't want my help then there's nothing I can do to protect you from whatever harm the others would cause you. You don't have many options, Loki. I am the best you can get; however disappointing that might be to you.” 

“There's nothing you need to 'protect' me from, though the notion is quite adorable.” He hooked a finger under her chin and lifted it as he leaned in a little, his face only inches away, and his breath mingled with hers as the surprise kept her from moving. “And you are most certainly the best I can get, aren't you?” He stared into her wide eyes, searched them, then began firing his questions with his tone stern and demanding. “How much intel do you have access to? Do you know the location of the scepter? Guard rotation? What plans does your boss have for the Tesseract? I would very much appreciate the help _before_ corrupting you.” 

She snapped out of her daze and pulled her chin from his fingers, stepping back quickly. “I'm sorry but I can't tell you anything, and I prefer not to be 'corrupted' by anyone; thank you very much.” 

Ooh, he had angered her now. There were flames dancing in her eyes, and even her calm posture couldn't hide the simmering frustration beneath. He liked the sight of it. 

“You don't really have a choice, dear doctor. You can either join me of your own accord and live a life of luxury with me while I rule over Midgard, or you can be subject to the scepter and have the choice taken away from you. Though I have to admit: I am not a man who enjoys forcing my will on someone.” It would be a waste to let such a brilliant mind perish in the attack, especially when she could be of good use to him. “Don't make this harder than it has to be. Society as you know it will not be around for much longer and you will need _my_ protection. Help me now and you will be lavishly rewarded.” 

But something in her gaze changed, and she tilted her head to the side just a little. “What do you mean society won't be around? What would you need to protect me from? You don't seem like a tyrant to me – quite the opposite. If you want to rule the world as much as you claim to then I'm sure you would be smart enough to take over without too much bloodshed.” He could almost see how her brain was rapidly processing information. “You wouldn't tell me that I need protection if it was from you yourself, though. Is there someone you're working with? Did they cause your wounds?” 

She was too smart for her own good, and he opened his mouth to speak when her eyes widened slightly in realisation:

“You're afraid - whomever you're working with holds some kind of power over you, don't they? Do they have something against you? Is that why you're doing all of this?” 

And for the second time since meeting her she had him lost for words. If he hadn't been so caught off-guard he might have admired her quick wit, might have complimented her on figuring it out so quickly, but the implications her questions held... She truly didn't think all of this could be him. She didn't see him as a monster, didn't believe that it was all his doing. Why did that affect him so deeply? Why did she have such power over his emotions; causing storms with just a few words or even with something as simple as a glance?  
But he couldn't let her figure it out, couldn't let her ruin his plans, because Thanos wouldn't grant him the mercy of death – and neither would he grant it to _her_ , if he thought her to be a weakness to Loki. He would use her against him. And though that was enough to worry about on its own, the core question beneath it was the truly terrifying one: 

Why did he care? 

Why did he care about her getting hurt? Why did the idea of her death make his chest contract painfully? Why was he so desperate to save her, to keep her out of harms way? Was it merely because she was the only one who had shown him kindness after being tortured in the void for what felt like eternity? 

“You would be better off if you stopped asking questions; there are things you do not want to know the answers to.” Was he talking to her or to himself? Frustration boiled up inside of him and his words came out sharper as he continued. “It would be easier if you just kept your pretty mouth shut and do as I say.” 

But you saw the fear in his eyes, even behind the disguises and walls. This man wasn't just scared – he was _terrified_. What could possibly terrify a god to such extent? A being as powerful as him, with magic and the ability to walk around gravely injured while making it look like nothing was wrong? If there was something out there that could bring such a look to Loki's eyes then it was time for her and everyone else to start panicking. The whole world was in danger, wasn't it? And not because of Loki – because he was just as much in danger as everyone else, perhaps even more so. 

Your voice was soft, your gaze pleading. “I need you to tell me what's going on, Loki. If there is someone forcing you to do this then tell us; tell us their plans and we can help prevent them from succeeding. You can help yourself by fighting back with us. The information you have... it could prevent the very thing you seem so scared of.” 

He began to crumble, face contorting and desperation slipping into his ruby eyes. “You can't stop him. It won't matter if I continue the plans or not; it will only delay the inevitable downfall of the universe. Don't you see? It's all hopeless – there is no fighting him.” He stepped closer to you again, trying to turn the situation back into his favour. “But if we do as he says, if you listen to me and help me, I can protect you from him. I can keep you safe. Is that not what you want?” 

You didn't step back despite how close he stood to you, and merely looked up at him – trying not to show all the clashing emotions inside of you. Did he care? Did he want you to survive whatever was coming? Your expression fell a little, your smile somber. 

“I don't think I want to survive the fall of the universe. I'm sorry, Loki, but... I can't accept that offer.” You took the opportunity to start redressing and bandaging the wounds on his torso, wrapping the medical gauze around him. “We might not be able to stop who is doing this, but we can prepare and fight back. And who knows, maybe we will win? Don't you want to take that chance if all the other options are hopeless and bleak anyway?” Your heart stung but you continued; your voice even softer than before. “I would rather try to help the good succeed and die in the process than to secure my own future and watch everything around me wither. This life... It doesn't have much to offer me, but I will protect others who don't want theirs to end yet. If you can't help us fight back against whatever is coming then try to fight for what is good, try to keep the people who deserve it safe.” 

You stepped away and moved to put your things into your bag again, Loki staying where he was; his eyes a little distant as his physique returned to the more human-like version of him. 

“I'm sorry, doctor mine; but there is no fighting back this time.” 

The moment you wanted to reply the strong need to cough rose within you, and there was no suppressing it. So you coughed, loud and continuous, doubling over a little from the sheer force with which your body forced the air from your lungs; and as it made you lose your balance you quickly set a hand to the glass wall and kept the other one clasped over your mouth. There were tears in your eyes by the time the attack was receding, and when you looked down at the palm of your hand -

your skin was speckled red. 

You stared at it without really seeing it, your mind blank, and then nonchalantly wiped it off on your black pants. You probably wouldn't be alive to see the destruction of the universe happen. 

“Then we will just... see how it goes.” 

Straightening yourself you tried to get your laboured breathing back under control, then took your bag to hang it over your shoulder. You had gotten enough information from him for today and you doubted that Loki was going to tell you more. 

 

The initial shock of her coughing fit quickly turned into concern and almost anger upon seeing the blood on her hand. “Whatever it is you're doing, it's making you sick, isn't it?” She moved towards the door but he grabbed her wrist and pulled her back effortlessly. “Isn't it?!” The booming anger in his voice almost shocked him. 

She kept his gaze, the acceptance of her fate written within her own. “Let go of me, Loki.” When he didn't do as she asked she gently tried to pull her wrist from his grasp, but he was too strong. Once more her look turned pleading. “I'll see you tomorrow again, at the next session. Think about what I said, all right?” 

“Don't ignore me,” he huffed out almost exasperated, eyebrows pulled together in a worried frown. “You're only proving my suspicions to be true by trying to run away and not answering my questions. Don't you see that I am the one in control? I could make you answer, I could force the words out of you.” Saying those things only made his chest contract tighter but he didn't let go yet; though he made sure not to bruise her. “I am done playing games, and I'm done with our little 'sessions'. I am not as patient a man as you may believe me to be.” 

She sighed.“Suspicions or not, you told me yourself that the end of the universe as we know it is coming. Whether or not I am there to see it doesn't matter; it's no one's concern but my own.” 

Not a single criminal had 'defeated' you before, but Loki's stubbornness and worry for your wellbeing made it hard to continue fighting with your usual fire. He was right: he was in control in this situation, and yet he didn't use that power. Never had he used his magic on you. This was the first time he had used his strength to keep you in place and still it was rather gentle, considering he could effortlessly snap your bones in half. Even now, it were his words with which he tried to convince you. 

“If you're not here to help me heal then no one will be. These wounds won't get the proper care needed to bring me back to full health, so your death _is_ my concern.” Yet he finally relented, his hold on your wrist loosening until he let go altogether. The way he looked at you made your heart ache. “Why do you care about everyone's life but your own? What is even the purpose of it all?” 

You wanted to be there when he made his full recovery from his injuries, but that was exactly what was wrong: you shouldn't want that. You shouldn't want to be beside an alien criminal when all hell broke loose. You shouldn't have felt your soul flutter when he had tilted your chin upwards and had leaned in closer, when you had felt his breath roll down your skin. It shouldn't have made your stomach twist as pleasurably as it had.  
And his questions stung. Of course you didn't care about your own life – why would you, when you shouldn't have been born? When you were a freak of nature and everyone in your youth had helped to remind you at every chance they got? A life like that wasn't worth living. But then what _was_ the purpose of caring about others? Why help criminals get back on the right path? To see the monsters turn human and get a happy ending? To see them live a life you would never have? 

Blinking a few times you realised tears had silently slid down your cheeks and you quickly wiped them away, incredibly embarrassed that you had cried in front of a patient. 

“Let's talk again tomorrow.” 

Soft, defeated, broken. Perhaps this wasn't the right field of work for you after all.  
You made your way out without another word, without another glance back, 

and left. 

 

Seeing her tears had physically hurt, had made him feel agony over a life he had thought to care little for – when obviously the opposite was true. There was something about her that had him feel hopeless. The thought of brainwashing her made him nauseous, but the thought of her dying made it feel like poisoned daggers pierced his chest; their toxins creeping into his bloodstream. Never had he felt anything similar.  
He shouldn't have let her leave, not until he had found out exactly what it was that was making her cough up blood, but what should he have done? Trap her in here with him against her will? If he found out what was hurting her he could heal her with his magic, but... then what? Allow her to die when the Chitauri came anyway? Keep her alive and imprisoned? What would even be the merciful thing to do? 

His hands clenched into fists and with an angry shout he punched the glass wall; not a crack appearing. Pathetic. 

He sat down on the bed and buried his face into his hands as he focused on his breathing, on calming himself. This was not like him. But now that she was gone again, and he _knew_ that he had hurt her, he couldn't just stay here and sit still while whatever it was that was killing her had free rein. No, he wouldn't wait until tomorrow. He would pay her a visit tonight, when the guards in his room rotated for the night shift.  
And he would find out exactly what was going on.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm also writing short Loki x Reader drabbles on Tumblr which I might upload here as well. Stay tuned for that!


	10. Heartache

Coulson regretted granting Agent Smith Blackout Protocol the moment he got notified of her upset state by one of the guards. What had that bastard done to her? Had he hurt her? And yet she hadn't pressed her panic button, hadn't said anything through her earpiece. Had Loki broken them? Had he prevented her from using them? He hoped with all his heart that it wouldn't be the case.  
He made his way through the halls, pace furious but gaze predominantly worried.

 

You got to your room without being spoken to or without even getting noticed in the first place, and once the door was closed and you had sat down on the edge of your bed the tears returned silently. Staring at the wall you zoned out. Everything hurt – your heart, your soul, your lungs, your bones – and yet it was nothing compared to what you had seen Loki walk around with. Was it merely the fact that he was a god or were you truly as weak as you felt? And you had considered yourself so strong in the beginning. To choose life, to start over, giving it another shot while you could have brought an end to it. And then you had chosen to help others and to make them happy, but what was the purpose? Without you there were enough other therapists that could bring them the same kind of happiness.  
There was no need for you to exist. 

But that was okay; it wouldn't last much longer anyway.

Every day your body withered away just a little more, allowing you to live a normal life albeit a short one, and you had considered it a fair deal. So then why had his words stung? Why had it hurt, when you had already accepted your fate since the day you had taken it into your own hands? Was a purpose truly that necessary? You wanted to say no, but here you sat: lost, staring into nothingness while you cried without sound. 

Until a knock on the door made you jump. 

Had someone noticed you after all? Were you needed for Agent Barton? You quickly stood and brushed the tears away, taking a moment to calm your breathing until you felt composed enough to open up.  
A mix of surprise and confusion made you frown. 

“Coulson? Why- Why are you here?” 

The concern in his eyes was obvious and dread began to grow inside of you, the answer to your question already answered: he was here because of your breakdown. 

“Please, call me Phil; we're past formalities. Can I come in?” 

You nodded and let him step inside before closing the door behind him. He continued.

“The guards informed me of your... emotional state. What happened with Loki? You're not someone who lets a criminal get under your skin.” 

“I... He just- He got to me. I'm sorry. I'm not hurt, but... Well, let's just say he's a tough one to deal with.” You gave him a watery smile before averting your gaze; you couldn't stand the way he looked at you, with such deep concern. How ironic was it, that the only ones who seemed to care about you were an agent from a secret corporation and a criminal from outer space? “He's not willing to give any direct names or plans yet, but he has mentioned a few things about why he's here. Something big is coming, Phil; and he thinks we won't be able to stop it. He calls it the Fall of the Universe.” 

Despite the rather dramatic name Phil seemed to take everything you said very seriously. “Has he said how he's going to make it happen?”

You sat down on the edge of your bed again and ran a hand through your hair. “I don't think it's him who will cause it. Even without his plans succeeding we won't be able to stop whatever or whomever is coming – at least that's what Loki said. He's terrified. He told me that life as we know it will change and there won't be much left of society, and if his tone was anything to go by then we can safely assume that a lot of people are going to die - but not by his hands. He's forced into this somehow. And if a man like him can be forced into something, can be terrified of something... I think we should all fear the worst.”

Your shoulders sagged and you sighed, knowing this information wouldn't help them much at all; but you didn't have a better answer yet. Coulson paced the room as he thought; an arm held across his chest with his elbow leaning on it and his fingers covering his mouth.  
You watched him silently, until after a few seconds he stopped. 

“Fury and Barton mentioned that Loki used the Tesseract to create some sort of portal to get here – what if that is his plan? What if he needs it to make a doorway to get something else to our world? Whatever or whomever he's working for?” 

Common sense told you to be afraid of that possibility, and yet all you could do was rest your heavy head in your hands. You were too exhausted to be afraid. “It would make sense. Do you have a lock on its location yet? How is the team doing with retrieving it?”

“Nothing yet. Dr. Banner and Mr. Stark have been trying to pinpoint its location but Dr. Selvig is smart and knows how to stay under the radar; and with his brain taken over there's no predicting what he will do.”

A moment of silence before Coulson continued; softer.

“I know you have a lot on your plate right now, but Agent Barton needs his final assessment so him and Agent Romanov can join the others on the plane back to HQ. Whether he's allowed to go depends on your opinion of his mental state – we can't risk some sort of trigger making him turn on us again. Not when we need his help more than ever.” 

You dropped your hands into your lap and nodded. “I'll go to him; you'll get the report as soon as possible.” It was best to keep yourself distracted, to keep yourself busy. To keep yourself from thinking too much.

Phil watched you for a moment, the worry back in his eyes. “If there's anything you need just let me know, okay? I don't want you to overwork yourself.” 

“I won't.” You offered him a lopsided smile hoping it would reassure him. “Loki might be a pain in the ass but so far he's...” 

What, exactly, was he? The most fascinating case you had ever had to work with? The most fun patient you had ever had to help? The most caring, playful, observant criminal you had ever spoken to? The most interesting man you had ever met? 

“He's not impossible; let's keep it at that.” 

That made the Omega chuckle. “All right; I trust your judgment.” A last, caring glance. “I'll leave you to it, then.”

He quietly left again. 

 

To keep yourself busy you didn't take breaks for the rest of the day; your health wasn't your biggest concern anyway. First, you swiftly wrote down some notes on your conversation with Loki, then moved to Barton's room where you had the last assessment and gave him the all-clear. After that you spent an hour on both Barton's and Loki's report and sent them to Phil; and a quick shower, a quick dinner, and some studying later, it was time to hit the bed. Gods, you were exhausted. Hopefully you'd sleep just as soundly as you had done yesterday, or you might not be able to deal with Loki tomorrow after all.

 

 

Nighttime came. There was adrenaline slipping into his veins, the thrill of seeking her out without set times or permission making his heart speed up just a little. She was not going to like his little visit. But how could he keep away? When she had so many secrets luring him in, so many things she was hiding not just from him but from everyone. When those secrets were killing her.  
Pain blossomed inside of him at the thought and anger welled up again. Anger, he told himself, and not concern – because he shouldn't care about her. It would merely be a waste of her intelligence and spitfire to let her die, nothing more and nothing less. 

He wondered for how long he could keep lying to himself. 

While waiting for the changing of the guards his every muscle was tensed and his magic buzzed invisibly through the air around him. Almost... Almost... 

_Now_

In a fraction of a second he created a clone of himself and teleported away; following the trace of magic he had left on her when he had grabbed her wrist – and appeared at her bedside.

There she lay; the covers up to her shoulders and the expression on her face peaceful. 

His chest – no, his heart – contracted slightly. Only now that he saw her fully at ease did he realise how many walls she put up during the day, how guarded she was despite how relaxed she seemed; and with all of that gone he was suddenly very aware of her beauty. Even with her hair tousled and messy, even with the bags underneath her eyes. Did she hide those behind makeup the way he hid his wounds beneath magic?  
The urge to sit down on the edge of her bed and to brush a strand of hair from her face surged through him and he almost gave in to it – but then what was next? Laying down next to her and staring at her as she slept? He wasn't a psychopath! 

And yet, the thought of holding her in his arms... 

No, don't even dare to think about it.  
He turned away from her sleeping form and walked over to her nightstand, squatting in front of it and pulling out the first drawer. Batteries for her alarm clock, earplugs, a notepad and a pen. Boring. Not even the pages contained anything helpful besides some notes she must have made after their conversation this morning. He continued to the second drawer but found nothing, then moved on to the third drawer which again was empty. He didn't even bother trying to be silent as he shoved it back in frustration.  
The fourth and last drawer, however, did contain something interesting, and a smirk grew on his face once he took the object out of the satin bag. Oh, naughty little doctor. 

He studied the toy for a moment, his mind conjuring deliciously perverted images that switched to the kind where he himself played one of the leading roles. Oh, he was certain he could satisfy her far more deeply than this dull thing. Perhaps that was all he felt to her then – some kind of desire to have what he couldn't? Is that what kept pulling him in besides her secrets? Making him want to keep her alive? It also explained why the thought of corrupting her using the scepter made him uneasy: it would no longer be a challenge, no longer be a fun game he could play.  
He put the toy back and forced himself to focus. It still wasn't what he was looking for, so he stored the information away, straightened himself back to his full height, and moved on to the desk. 

 

Sounds awoke you from your barely entered state of rest and a soft groan left your throat as you pushed yourself up on your elbows, having slight difficulty with opening your eyes – but once you saw the silhouette of a very familiar man standing by your desk they instantly shot wide open.

“Loki?! ”

Sleep be damned – you were wide awake now, holding the covers up to your neck even though you were wearing one of the standard Shield nightwear outfits. How the fuck had he gotten in?! Your gaze shot to the door but it was still bolted shut, no sign of being opened at all, and since there were no windows there was no other explanation that came to mind besides _magic_. You moved your attention back to the man in your room, who had ignored your shocked outcry. 

“What the fuck do you think you're doing?” 

Rage began to boil your blood and you threw the sheets aside and jumped out of bed, walking over to him as he rummaged through your desk. He was only barely able to pull back his fingers before you slammed the drawer shut.  
Professionalism and caution were out the window; he was in your private space and had been stupid enough to wake a sleeping lion. 

“How did you get here and _why_ did you think I would allow you to go through my things?” 

“If I thought you would allow it I would have asked,” he shot back, pulling open a second drawer out of your reach and continuing like you weren't glaring daggers at him. “And that cell is a pathetic excuse for a prison, especially when trying to contain a god.” 

“For fucks sake, Loki, just stop this! If you wanted something then all you needed to do was ask me, not come and plunder my room-”

He harshly pushed the drawer shut, grabbed your waist, pulled you in front of him, and set his hands down on the desktop beside your hips to keep you captured. “What I _want_ is to find out what you have been doing to yourself that makes you cough up _blood!_ ” 

Your heart hammered against the inside of your chest as you stared into his crystalline eyes, the close proximity of his face to yours making heat spread through your body and his scent- gods, his scent... Fuck, this was so messed up. Closing your eyes so you wouldn't have to look into his you tried to find your composure again, tried to kill the arousal and rage and any other emotion that could make this situation worse, and when you dared to meet his piercing gaze again the boiling anger had been reduced to a simmering fire inside your gut. 

Gently, you lay your hands against his leather-clad chest; not pushing him away but keeping him from getting closer. “Thank you for caring, but it really is none of your concern. I am sure you will find someone to take care of your wounds after I'm gone and the universe has been destroyed or whatever. Everyone has secrets, I'm sure you know it just as well as I do, so please stop prying or I will have no choice but to call in the guards and have them take you away.” 

There was pain in the clear, beautiful blue; mixed with a kind of hopelessness and desperation – though he tried to hide it behind frustration. “All you need to do is tell me, doctor; tell me what makes your scent smell off, tell me what is making you sick.” His voice grew softer, almost pleading when he continued: “I can heal you with my magic.” 

Gods, it hurt. Why did it hurt? Why did that look in his eyes make it feel like you had taken a sword to the chest? Why did his words make your throat clench shut? The urge to kiss him was overwhelming and so, so confusing but you kept it under control as best as you could, finally averting your gaze sideways. 

“And then what, Loki? Let me watch as the end of times arrives? Have me fight for the safekeeping of the world? I'm a therapist, not a fighter; I can barely even swing a proper punch! I'd be dead in seconds.” 

His fingers gently took hold of your chin and coaxed you to look at him again. “I meant what I said: I can protect you. Keep you safe.”

His touch, his closeness, his scent and his voice were all making the butterflies go vicious inside your stomach, and you hated it. You hated how handsome he was and how attracted you were to him, how apparently all that was needed was for someone to care for you. It was so messed up to fall for one of your patients – criminal or not – and he wasn't even human for fucks sake! Were you truly that desperate for affection? That desperate for touch? You couldn't find words to reply with, aimlessly searching his eyes for something, _anything_ to say. 

 

If only he could read her mind and figure out what she was thinking when she stared at him like that. He could see fear, but it wasn't aimed at him, and whatever else swirled in her gaze was unreadable. This woman was such a mystery. She intrigued him, ensnared him like a trap; not having left his mind for a second since he had met her. She was a beautiful curse, a liar, a trickster like him yet in a different way - or perhaps they were more alike than he had initially thought. With her bright mind, her observing eyes. And her skin was so soft beneath his fingers... 

He brushed his thumb over her lower lip, eyes flicking down to it, and he became aware of the desire that she had sparked in his core. He couldn't deny his attraction to her any longer.  
He swallowed hard. Just a taste of her lips... Surely he could play it off as trying to seduce her for his plans? No, no, she wouldn't fall for that. She would know that he longed for her, that he wanted her. Cared for her.  
The very idea terrified him beyond words and he didn't dare to think of the reason he had fallen for her so quickly. Was he truly that desperate for affection? Desperate for touch? 

“L-Loki, I need you to leave.” 

Her soft voice shook him from his trance, from his fixation on her lips, and he met her eyes again. 

“Tell me what is making you ill.” But there was no true demand in his tone; merely hopelessness. “Let me heal you.” 

“I can't - I won't. Please, just... Just leave.” 

He stepped away, her hands slipping from his chest and falling back to her sides – and that was when he noticed the small letters on her lower arm. 

“Jonathan?” He whispered the name almost cautiously, gaze a bit unfocused and brows knitting together a little; until the shock faded and venom slipped into his veins.

Anger and jealousy coursed through him, a white-hot flash of searing pain shooting through his chest while his hands clenched into fists. The intensity of his emotions shocked him, overwhelmed him, choked him. It hurt. Why did it hurt? He parted his lips to speak again, to hiss insults and spew profanities, but nothing came and it only frustrated him more. Jonathan – what an abominable name. He tried to contain his rage but his gaze was cold when he met hers again, his voice just as icy as he spoke up again. 

“I will see you tomorrow then, doctor. Don't be late.”

And he teleported away, back to his cell to replace his clone. 

 

No one had noticed a thing of his momentary absence, so the guards jumped in shock when Loki roared out and released a wave of magic crashing into every object in his cell, sending it all flying. Tears were brimming in his waterlines but he didn't allow them to fall. Idiot; massive, unbelievably foolish _idiot!_ This is why he should have kept her at a distance, why he shouldn't have allowed himself to care! It was his own fault for letting sentiment get the best of him. How pathetic. How _weak_.  
He had lost his family, his life, his morals and his sanity; and now he had lost something that hadn't even been his in the first place. 

There was nothing left for him to lose but his ability to feel, and he could only hope he would lose it soon.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> 👀
> 
> Please consider leaving a comment, I love reading them ♡  
> Feel free to hit me up on [the blog](https://foruneyti.tumblr.com/) as well! All questions and remarks are very welcome (●´ω｀●)


	11. Intermission II

You were left standing with your back against the desk, the feeling of his thumb brushing over your lip still lingering, and confusion had settled deep inside your stomach. It almost made you nauseous. The way he had looked into your eyes and had shifted that gaze to your lips, the fact he had come to your room to find out what was making you ill instead of trying to escape – could he have developed a crush? It wasn't uncommon, especially since you were the only one showing him kindness, and in situations like these you couldn't blame him or the other criminals who had been in a similar position. With the kind of work that you did you had gotten enough 'confessions' to become immune to them – or, well, so you had thought... He hadn't exactly confessed but you had seen the hungry look in his eyes, then the genuine care, and then the hurt and the jealousy when he had spotted the name inked into your skin. 

Inked, because it was fake. 

Still a bit in a daze you lifted your arm a little and stared at the name you had picked. He was the first one to see it and you wondered if the other patients – the ones who had 'fallen' for you – would have reacted the same way; thinking someone else was destined to be your Soulmate. You probably didn't want to know; and you definitely didn't want to know why you wanted to reassure Loki and tell him that it wasn't what he thought it was, that it was all a big misunderstanding. You pushed the thought away.

Then slowly it began to really sink in what had just happened, and with Loki not leaving through the door but vanishing into thin air your suspicions were without a doubt confirmed: he wanted to be here. And, more worryingly: he could leave whenever he wished.  
The haze began to clear from your mind and you grabbed your earpiece from the nightstand, putting it in and activating it. 

“Phil?” The moment he answered you continued. “Phil we have a problem: Loki is definitely _not_ contained. If his magic isn't nullified he can get out the very second he decides he has had enough.” 

You could hear him curse under his breath, the rustling of fabric signaling he was probably getting out of bed. _”I'll make some calls, get the Raft back up to the surface; we'll move him first thing in the morning. Are you okay? Did he hurt you?”_

“No I'm fine, I'm fine; no need to worry. At what time will we be moved?” 

A short moment of silence on his end. Then, cautiously: _”Are you sure you still want to treat him? We can hire someone else, relieve you from duty for a while-”_

“No.” The answer came out clear and determined. “Thank you for taking such quick action but I would like to stay on the job.” You weren't just doing it for the money anymore, not fully anyway, but it wouldn't be wise to admit that. To admit that you didn't want to hurt Loki by leaving him, that the very thought of it stung painfully deep. 

A sigh from the other end of the line. _”All right. I'll post guards outside your bedroom for the night; if he comes back just shout. I'll get the jet for you and Loki to leave as soon as possible; so expect around... six or seven AM tomorrow. I'll notify you an hour before takeoff.”_

“Okay, thank you; I'll hear from you in the morning again then. Good night.”

And you broke off the connection before he could say more, putting the tiny device back on your nightstand and letting yourself fall onto your bed. Everything was so messed up. You groaned into your pillow before properly crawling under the sheets again and stared up at the white ceiling. If Loki found out or even as much as voiced his _suspicions_ to the guards it could ruin your life – they might not immediately believe him, but the seeds of doubt or interest would have been planted and even unconsciously people would start to pay more attention to you. Humans were easily manipulated. And if Shield then found out what you had been hiding from them from the very start... Well, let's just say that firing you on the spot would be the very least they would do. You would be homeless, jobless, vulnerable. No, you had to prevent that from happening no matter what. 

 

When the morning came you wasted no time. A quick breakfast later and you were back in your room, packing whatever little stuff you had – most of it Shield Standard items that were provided in every room on board of the Helicarrier – and making sure the place was left behind nice and tidy;

until it was time to leave.


	12. Another Cage

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> One day late, but that's honestly not too bad! And it's long, too! To make up for the (previous) shorter chapter. I hope you'll like it (●´ω｀●)

Yes, he had told the doctor to be on time, and yes, he had meant it; yet when guards flooded the room that contained his cell it was barely even morning – far too early for his session. He watched them with narrowed eyes, suspiciously following their every move as they surrounded the glass cage. Their presence didn't threaten him, however. Not even a hundred guards would be able to hurt him. But what were they planning? Why were they here, and so early in the day at that?  
The glass door opened and the wave of agents streamed into his cage now, too; stepping over the mess and surrounding him, keeping their guns trained on his chest and head. The doctor must have told her boss about his little visit last night. Were they increasing security measures, then? Moving him to a different cell perhaps? He glowered at the agents around him. Didn't they know that no cell could ever keep him contained? 

“An explanation would be welcome,” he stated dryly, not once taking his eyes off of the one who seemed to lead the party. At least this was more interesting than sitting on his bed all day staring into nothingness and waiting for those brainwashed idiots to come 'break him out'.

Yet the agent didn't speak; he and his subordinates all merely cocked their guns in unison-

one of them snapped a metal collar around his neck from behind.  
How had he not noticed the man approach? How had- 

w-wait, what was...

He stumbled a little, his strength suddenly leaving his body and the pain returning full-force, before his legs gave way and he sank through his knees with his hands barely keeping him from crashing into the floor. Panic surged within him: 

he couldn't feel his magic. 

His muscles didn't obey him anymore and he stared at his trembling hands, eyes wide and filled with terror when his fingers began to change colour and blue spread up his arms like a disease. 

“What- what is this? What have you done?!” 

He tried to cover his body with magic, to set the agents on fire, to summon a dagger - _anything_ \- but nothing worked. He was powerless, weak, pathetic. He tried to stand but even something as simple as that was suddenly not that easy anymore, the agony caused by his wounds clouding his mind and forcing him to focus on his breathing; yet he felt it overwhelm his consciousness and usher it out of his brain,

until his vision went black. 

 

 

When he awoke again he could barely open his eyes, and when he did the light was too harsh. How much time had passed? Where had they taken him? Once more he forced himself to look and let the brightness sear his eyes until they adjusted, until they finally started properly seeing again. A ceiling, a wall, a white line running across the grey, and as his gaze followed it to the metal bars at the front of his cell his weary brain concluded the obvious: this was not his original cage. It seemed much smaller, looked much tougher. Was this still on the aircraft? Had they transferred him to some other prison? He pushed himself into a sitting position with a loud and pained groan rumbling from his wounded chest. They had changed his clothes, too: a blue suit with beneath it a gray undershirt that grated over his bandaging, and shoes that felt more like weirdly fitted slippers. The idea that they had touched him while he had been unconscious was violating and his whole being responded with deep abhorrence. He was going to make them pay for what they had done to him, what they had _taken_ from him. Without his magic... He was no one.  
The helplessness was overwhelming and tears formed in his waterlines. For the first time in forever he felt hunger again, felt how he was in dire need of water; he felt the pain of his wounds and the burning of his every organ and limb alike. He remembered why death had seemed the only way out.

More time passed and a meager amount of tasteless food was brought; and though at first he glared at the guards with as much venom as he could muster, the moment they were gone he attacked the meal like a starving wolf and drank the water in big, desperate gulps until not a single drop was left. It wasn't enough. It wouldn't even have been enough for a mortal, let alone a malnourished and dehydrated Frost Giant. And he was so, so incredibly tired, so exhausted to the very core – yet he knew that the nightmares would return the moment he drifted off and continue his torture as if Thanos had never even stopped. And that wasn't even the worst of his problems. 

If he was no longer on the aircraft, no longer on the same ship as the green shapeshifting monster, then a crucial part of his plan couldn't be executed. He couldn't teleport back without his magic, couldn't get a hold of the scepter anymore; and considering the physical state he was in he had no hope of escaping any other way. He would be locked up like an animal until one of Thanos' children came to punish him for failing. If the Titan managed to get all the stones then dying here would only be a short relief and certainly no permanent solution, and then there was still _her_ , that damned doctor, who he was foolish enough to feel for. And yet, now that she was back inside his mind, he knew she wouldn't leave again; not after her kindness and her patience, her warmth and her care. His weak heart would be unable to let go of her for quite some time still. 

So he cursed himself, hated himself, silently wallowed in self-pity for however many hours passed until the awful-smelling Alpha guards came to his cage again and told him it was time for a therapy session. He knew it wouldn't be with _her_ ; he had wasted his time with her and had burned every bridge she had built for him when he broke her trust last night. She had been right after all, about being his only line of defense against the cruelty of her superiors – and he had been daft enough to think he was invincible. That he hadn't needed her help.  
Look where it had gotten him. 

Too tired to try to escape or to do even as much as attack the guard he let them handcuff him and usher him along through the hallways, not even hearing their mockery and insults. He didn't even care that his torture would continue. Pain was a constant in his life, something he had grown rather used to, and he doubted that these humans could do worse than Thanos and his abominable children.  
They pushed him around the corner with more force than needed and he stumbled into the room, only just able to keep himself from falling, and when he lifted his gaze-

his heart stopped. 

Was he... Was he dreaming? No, no she seemed too real; her strange scent was too real.

“Good morning, Loki.” 

Relief washed over him like a tidal wave and his heart swelled so much he felt it push against his chest from the inside, tears welling up in his eyes again merely at hearing her voice, at seeing her face. It felt like it had been days, weeks, centuries. He had missed the mercy of her presence. How safe it made him feel. And yet... His eyes flickered to her lower arm, covered by her usual attire, and it was as if he could see the name staring back at him through the fabric. Jonathan.  
Jonathan, and not Loki. 

She nodded at the two guards. “Please take off his handcuffs.” 

They didn't look too sure about that. “I'm sorry miss but I don't think that's a good idea. He's a criminal; it's not safe.” 

“I will be the judge of that. Agent Coulson has given me full responsibility so please unshackle him and leave, I can't work like this.” 

Loki watched a bit dazedly how one of the two men took out his stun baton and how the other did as the doctor had asked – with a fair amount of hesitance and wariness in his posture; and once the cuffs were off they hurriedly stepped back and left. 

The door closed with a heavy clunk, and the two of them were alone. 

He stared at her. Tried to read her. Saw the sadness in her eyes and waited for her to say something. _Anything_. Why was she here? Why hadn't she abandoned him like he had expected her to? Did she still think he deserved her help? Her kindness? If she knew he wouldn't harm her then why did she have him transferred here? Her sigh pulled him from his thoughts.

“You look like shit.” 

He huffed out a soft laugh. “You don't look too energetic yourself, doctor mine.” 

“This is the last way I can protect you. Just come to the sessions and talk to me, give me enough to keep my boss happy, and you'll be safe. I'll allow you to be unshackled as long as you cooperate.”

Wringing at his wrists where the sensation of the tight metal lingered he started to pace the office; casually inspecting it. There were two couches facing each other close to the door with a coffee table in between, a desk at the other end of the room with a chair on either side, and some sort of screen that emitted light hung on the wall and tried to cover up the fact that there were no windows. The whole room was devoid of anything personal. No photographs, no paintings, no knickknacks or decorations; just like her bedroom had been. Purely professional. 

She watched him from beside one of the couches as he made his way to her desk and let his hand run over the hard, synthetic material. It was hard to start this game again; to try and seem unbothered, unaffected, casual. 

“Where is this place? How long have I been here?” 

And could he blame her for stripping him of his magic or had he played himself? 

“I don't know where, exactly, but it's called The Raft; a prison for people with powerful enhancements or inhuman abilities. It submerges itself below sea level.” She sat herself down on the couch. “You've been unconscious for two days. Please, sit down.” 

He slowly made his way back to the front of the room, taking his sweet time. The more he stalled the longer he could stay here instead of his cell. Two days of being unconscious... Two days closer to being dragged back into Hel. 

“I am not sure what you could still want from me. I don't have the Tesseract and my plans have failed; Dr. Selvig's current whereabouts are unknown to me.”

A pause, a moment of mentally gathering something akin to courage, and he slowly sat himself down opposite of her on the second couch. The difference in comfort compared to his cot of a bed was massive. If he didn't keep himself in check he might drift off, consoled by her warmth and the safety of being alone with her, lulled to sleep by the softness of the furniture.  
He could see the empathy in her eyes, her voice soft as she spoke. 

“Tell me about the failed plans; how it was supposed to go, why it failed, what the Tesseract had to do with it. Who forced you to do all of this and what do they have over you? If you give me the information I need I'll let you sleep on the couch for a while if you want? I can't imagine the cell beds to be too comfortable.” 

Sleeping here sounded like Valhalla, and every fibre of his being begged him to take the generous offer. A few more moments of silence passed. What did he have to lose? Telling her wouldn't change a thing, and neither would keeping it secret from her. 

“My life, my sanity; half the universe to top it off.” He rested his face in his hands and sighed. “Even without the Tesseract, Thanos will find his way here.” 

 

Your heart and soul clenched at seeing him like this; his voice thick with pain and sorrow and not a single layer of magic to cover up the bruising beneath his sunken eyes. You hadn't been allowed to change his bandaging while he had been unconscious as it had been 'too dangerous of a situation'. The guards had told you he could wake up any second, could lose his shit once he did, and though you had tried to convince them that he wouldn't hurt you they still hadn't allowed you near. So you had given them instructions, had demanded that they took good care of his injuries – and if you found out they hadn't listened or had done something wrong you had sworn you'd get them fired.  
Everything about this situation was fucked up. The fact that you wanted to sit down next to him, to offer him a shoulder to cry on, and how you almost felt _guilty_ for moving him to this forsaken place. You needed to focus. Focus, focus. 

From his words you could make up he had been forced to cooperate out of sheer survival, and that he also seemed to care about at least half of the universe. Did being unable to save them weigh heavy on his shoulders or was it something he had come to accept? Did he blame himself? Gods, this man was no criminal; none of this was how he wanted it to be. How _he_ wanted to be. The name Thanos didn't ring any bells, and when you saw the glistening teardrop slip from his chin and fall into his lap you didn't even consider asking about it. 

Instead, you broke your code of work. Left it behind altogether.

You stood, walked to the desk to grab the tissues, and moved back to sit down beside Loki; facing him, offering him the box. 

“I'm sorry,” you whispered. “None of this is how you want it to be, is it?” A pause, waiting for him to take a tissue, and when he didn't you set the box on the table and lay your hands in your lap. “If nothing could stop you or hurt you, what would you like to be? Where would you want to be, and what would you want to do? What would be your perfect future?” 

He tensed a little, slowly lowering his hands from his face and resting his lower arms on his thighs yet avoiding your gaze. “Are you asking about my idea of a perfect life?” Disbelief, confusion. 

You nodded. “I am. Tell me what you would have wanted for your life if nothing had come between it. Tell me what would be _your_ perfect life.” 

He finally looked at you for a moment, his red eyes dull and watery and yet still so beautiful, before he averted his gaze back down at his hands; holding his palms facing upwards. “I suppose, in my idea of a perfect life, I would not be the monster you see before you. I would still be Odinson, not Laufeyson. I would be treated as an equal to Thor. Loved by both our parents, by the people.” More tears followed silently and he didn't even seem to notice it. “I would continue living my life in the palace. I would explore new places, keep up my studies, practice my magic... Perhaps even make a friend.” 

You waited, allowed him to think, allowed him to continue. 

“I used to want power, hoping that reverence would turn into some kind of warmth towards me. Now that I know how much it corrupts, how much it ruins lives...” He clenched his hands into fists, until only a few seconds later that strength seemed to leave him and his fingers uncurled again. He looked... defeated. “I just want peace, a normal life, a happy ending. But that's the thing with villains, isn't it? They never get such things.” 

It stung, the misery and hopelessness beneath his words slipping into your blood as your sympathy towards him got the best of you. 

“If this whole end of the universe thing doesn't happen I can help you find your peace, your happy ending. I've helped others, remember? Get them back into society, teach them how to build a good, steady life for themselves. You are not a villain, Loki, nor a monster; and if you call yourself such a derogatory term simply because of the colour of your skin I will do everything to make you see yourself in a different light. Accepting this form is part of your personal growth; learning how to love yourself more will help you lead a happier life. We can start there, if you want? Or if you want to talk about something else that is bothering you we can do that, too.” 

After a split second of hesitation you decided to gently lay a hand on his shoulder to offer a comforting touch. There was more potential in him than in any other criminal you had helped so far, and if his situation hadn't been so complex it would have been easy to introduce him into society as a normal man. Most people must have forgotten about Stuttgart already, after all. But alas, if he was right then there would be no society left to introduce him into. 

His eyes met yours again, a hurricane of emotion in his crimson gaze, and for a moment you were mesmerised - 

“Or we could talk about you,” he said on a tone that made your heart skip a beat, “and how you are hiding something about your own less-than-perfect life.” 

Before you could react he turned fully towards you and snuck an arm around your waist to keep you in place while his lips found the gland in your neck, nipping at the skin to try and elicit more of your scent, and your face grew red in an instant as a whimper fell from your lips. 

“L-Loki stop what are you-” 

You tried to push him away but he pulled you closer and heat rushed down, your mind hazing over because of _his_ scent. Gods, he smelled amazing. The butterflies inside your stomach went crazy as he kept mouthing at the sensitive skin of your neck. 

“S-stop this! You're crossing a-a-a line here – and you know what happened last time! I can't protect you anymore; you'll be at their mercy-” You had to bite your lip not to moan. 

“Why should I care?” His breath rolled down your neck as he kept you close. “There is nothing worse that they can do to me compared to what Thanos has already done or is still planning to do. Death is the only salvation for me, and he won't even give me that. Just let me have this... this mystery of yours.” He grazed his slightly fanged teeth over your skin, growling when not even that managed to get some kind of recognisable scent from you, and it left you trembling with your thighs pressed closely together. 

“We talked about this already, more than I would've liked.” 

And, as if on cue, that itch inside your lungs grew and grew and you kept your hands over your mouth as you began coughing like your body wanted to rid itself of your lungs. Coughing and coughing until blood dripped down from your palms onto your shirt and it didn't stop, wouldn't stop, and you were running out of breath, running out of strength-  
Loki gently pulled you against him and started rubbing soothing circles over your back, hushed you, calmed you, his scent enveloping you; and though you could easily smell his worry there was something else to it that made you feel safe and protected. 

Finally... finally the coughing receded again.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Please let me know what you think, and don't forget to leave some kudos!


	13. Medicine

Your breathing was wet and ragged, cheeks stained with trails of salt, and you helplessly held your hands cupped in front of your chest as if to keep from soiling anything else. Loki didn't let go yet. 

“Stupid girl,” he whispered, and it was easy to tell he didn't truly mean it. 

You felt too weak to try and push him away; and since your body, mind, and heart had unanimously decided that he was comfortable you didn't truly try, anyway. This feeling of comfort, of safety, of being cared for... If you could die like this you'd be happy. 

“It's okay; I chose this. It was the only way I could have a proper life. Without the blockers and suppressants I wouldn't be here – I would have ended my life far sooner.” You sighed, feeling the liquid in your lungs weigh you down, and you were so incredibly tired. “Please, just... Help me stand. Let's continue our session tomorrow.” 

Yet, still, he didn't let go. “Blockers, suppressants... I'm afraid I don't understand. How could you have chosen this way to end your life? Why in the Realms would you do this to yourself?” 

Resting your forehead against his shoulder you sighed and closed your eyes. “This was my way to _live_. Without the medication I was like all the other Omega's – shamed, bullied, oppressed. People could do to me what they wanted and no one would care. No one would help. I'd be treated like a lesser person all day every day and I just wanted it to end.” 

You didn't know why you were opening up to him. Perhaps because death may come even sooner than you had thought it would; perhaps because this could be your last day alive and you had nothing left to lose. 

“So I snuck into the lift of the highest building in town, went up to the roof, set my feet on the edge, and stared Death in the eyes. But then about halfway down on the opposite side of the street I saw a billboard advertising medical tests of some kind of blocker-suppressant mix. Enough money to pay for multiple studies while also getting meds that would hide my scent and therefore my designation from everyone around me – it was perfect.” 

A soft cough, like an aftershock. 

“So I signed up, became their guinea pig – and the medication worked. I got multiple degrees, got my tattoo, and moved to a place where no one would recognise me. I started a new life. Then Shield hired me, and because of my degrees in psychology and physiology I could keep ordering my medication without raising suspicion.”

You needed another moment of just breathing, of just feeling his hand rub soothingly over your back, before you continued. 

“I could finally live a proper life without being treated like I was worthless, like my sole purpose for existing was to add to humanity's overpopulation or to serve those with other designations. People finally appreciated me for my knowledge and my skills. All I had to sacrifice for it was a future I had nearly given up on anyway.” 

He gently let go and pushed you back a little by your shoulders so he could look you in your eyes, one hand coming up to cup the side of your face and his thumb brushing a strand of hair to the side. The gentle caress made the butterflies return, yet softer. 

“You're an Omega? And they dared to do all of this to you?” There was such disbelief, such care, such _pain_. Why did he hurt for you?

 

On Asgard Omega's were rare, and anyone who dared to harm someone with such a coveted designation was put into jail if not executed. Omegas were cherished, praised, spoiled. How could Midgard get it so wrong? He had known of the fact that the designation system was present in their biology as well – it was a common thing on many life-bearing planets – yet he had never searched too deeply into the ways their society dealt with it, the ways people looked at different designations. It had been ignorant of him to think that they would have had the same mindset as on Asgard. It almost angered him how unbelievably cruel humans could be, and to know that they had aimed their anger at her, at his doctor, the woman in front of him... If he had had the strength he would have burned down the planet for her, just to show them how wrong they had been to hurt her like this. 

He calmed his quickly rising rage and instead held out his hand. “Give me your medication. I am not going to sit here and watch you die. I'll heal you, bring you to Asgard – they will give you the love and worship you deserve. You'll be safe there.”

She just smiled mirthlessly. “Thank you for caring; really. I'm... I'm so sorry that you'll be stuck in this place when I die, and that there's still Thanos and his plans. I wish there could be a happy ending for you, because you deserve one, Loki. I'll write in the report that this transfer was a mistake, that you're allowed to be moved to one of the therapy homes and that you're not dangerous anymore. And in case the universe keeps existing, promise me that you'll make use of the opportunity and build a life for yourself, okay? Don't do anything stupid and make the best of the chances you're given.” 

It felt like she was saying goodbye, as if they wouldn't see each other again the moment he stepped out of this room, and he pulled her back into a tight embrace; refusing to let go of her. To say goodbye.  
And of a moment just sitting there, holding her and cherishing her existence, he made up his mind. 

“I can't just do nothing.” 

He abruptly let go and stood, making his way over to the desk and pulling open drawer after drawer to once more search for her medication. He could hear her fumbling to stand and then quickly following after him. 

“I don't have my meds with me if that's what you're looking for.” 

But he could hear the slight panic in her voice. “Liar. If not here then where else?” 

“My room – where I spend most of my time?” The sass would have made him smile if it hadn't been for the serious subject. 

He didn't notice her bag beside the desk, or how her hand slipped inside of it when his back was facing her. 

“If it had been in your room you would have stayed seated on that couch and spared yourself the effort of standing up. No, it's here; I simply have to find it still.” He nearly ripped a few drawers from the desk, bent over to search the space beneath, and let his hand slide over the underside of the desktop. Nothing taped to it. 

Then he _did_ notice the bag at the side, however, and he picked it up to set it on the synthetic surface so he could dive inside; taking things out one by one until he decided to turn the whole bag upside down. Nothing that looked like pills or anything else medical. 

“Damn it, Loki,” she sighed and came to stand next to him so she could start putting everything back-

he pulled her in front of him, turned her around, and pinned her to the desk like he had done the night he had paid her a visit. 

“I'm not giving up.” 

His lips found her neck again, searching quickly until he heard her breath hitch and he knew he had found her mating gland. He knew he was crossing a line when he started to kiss and suck on that intimate and sensitive spot but it was a last resort, a desperate action to get her to talk if only just to stop him from continuing, and while his lips worked her neck his hands slid over her thighs, over her pockets – empty. He growled and moved his hands over her hips to her behind, grabbing two firm handfuls and pulling her against him; once again finding the pockets to be empty. Where had she put it?  
Her mewls and whimpers and the scent of her arousal were causing his breathing to speed up and his mind to haze over however, even though he tried everything to focus. _Focus_. Yet this was the first time he had truly been able to smell something on her, and the fact that she was getting aroused by this – by _him_ \- 

“Loki- p-please _ah_ \- just l-let it go!” 

“Tell me where it is and I will stop,” he growled back, his hands sliding into her shirt and searching her waist and back for any hidden things; his pants getting a little too tight in the meantime. 

Her trembling was doing things to him and he felt some kind of primal need rise as he slowly dragged his fangs over her mating gland; the urge to bite down, to claim her, mate her, bond himself to her-  
He pulled back and glanced down at his hand, which had crept up into her bra without him even noticing it, and he took out the little device that had been hidden there. 

“What do we have here, hm?” He held the thing out of her reach and glanced down at her, his crimson eyes growing dark at seeing the disheveled state he had put her in. A deep blush on her face, lust and frustration in her gaze... He was glad there were more important things at hand, or he might have shifted his priorities. 

But then the look in her eyes changed into something heart-wrenching; arousal replaced by fear, panic, and desperation while tears began to flow mercilessly. 

“Please, without those meds I am no one. I might survive but I will lose my job, my independence – I will be forced to live on the streets and everyone will be a threat, I won't be safe! I will be hurt and mocked and left to freeze or starve!” Her shoulders began to shock with loud sobs and she softly hit a fist against his chest. “I can't go back to that, Loki! I can't live like that – I'd rather not live at all.” Another soft hit of her fist but she seemed unable to keep it up and defeatedly rested her forehead against his sternum as she sobbed. 

He couldn't magic the medication away and so slid the device into the only pocket this outfit provided: his underwear. At least it would keep her from trying to steal it back. He gently wrapped his arms around her and held her close, stroked her hair as he shushed her. 

“I'm sorry,” he whispered, “but this is for your own good; and don't you dare think I will leave you to the wolves. Omega or not, I won't sit by and watch you wither away. I won't give up on you.” 

If he could convince her to take off the collar he could teleport her to his realm and beg his mother to take her in, to care for her. After explaining how he was still alive, of course. Because he, too, had felt lost enough to give up on life and he had let go, had let himself fall into the abyss with the hope to be torn apart and scattered throughout the universe. He too had wanted it all to end. But she could still be happy – she could have a life on Asgard, could be loved and cared for; and though he wished for nothing more than to be a part of that he knew Thanos would find him sooner or later. 

 

You allowed him to hold you again, allowed his ministrations to soothe you as you cried like you were the patient and he was the therapist. His soft whispers promising to protect you... It was clear you had fallen for him with body and mind, even though he was more stubborn than all of humanity combined. The way he calmed you and cared for you, the way his touch could cool you down as well as set fire to your skin in the most delicious ways... Perhaps your desperation for touch and love had turned it into some kind of Stockholm Syndrome, since you had been stuck with him as much as he had been stuck with you, but at this moment you didn't really care anymore about how it had happened. All that mattered now was that you had feelings for him, and he seemed to have feelings for you, but you were dying and he was on the run from his torturer and everything was such a complicated mess of impossibilities.  
Besides... he probably had a Soulmate somewhere, searching for him, who was able to love him properly. If Thanos never showed up or executed his plans then Loki still had a whole life in front of him once he passed through the entirety of the therapy course. And he deserved so, so much better. After all he had been through, all he was still going through against his will... He deserved someone more than a thousand times better than you could ever be. 

You moved back a little but kept your gaze averted. “There's nothing you can do while you're locked up in here. Once they find out I've been lying to them for years, putting missions and agents in danger by trusting my medication above all else, I'll be done for. They will drag me out of this place and just dump me on the shore; or maybe they won't even take that risk but have me 'accidentally' die on my way back to the mainland.” A watery sigh. “Either way, with or without meds, my time is up.” 

“All you have to do is take off this collar.” He tapped a slightly pointy nail to the metal. “I can heal you with my magic and get us out of here. Your designation will grant you protection inside the palace and I'm certain I can convince my mother to take you in.” 

He gently hooked a finger under your chin and tilted it up so you were forced to look at him again, his lips only inches away from yours, and the butterflies returned. How badly you wanted to kiss him, to hold him close. Hesitation began to wrap its claws around your fast-beating heart. 

“What about this world? What about the Fall?”

A moment of silence, of your breaths mingling, and he spoke:

“If I agree to tell you everything that I know so your superiors can try to prepare for it, will you promise to come with me?” 

He searched your eyes and the burning hope in the swirling ruby made warmth blossom inside your chest. Gods, he was beautiful. Could you accept his offer? Could you leave everything behind? 

“Yes.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> If you're enjoying this story please consider reblogging my links to it on Tumblr! That way it will reach far more people ♡


	14. Together As One

His eyes searched yours for a few seconds more as if that single word was too much to process, as if he had quietly expected a 'no' instead. Was he that surprised? A little smile crept on your tear-stained face. 

“What do I have left to lose, anyway?” 

You reached into the mess that had been inside your bag a few minutes ago and grabbed your key card, then held it against the side of his collar until the red light switched to green and the sound of a lock coming undone announced Loki's freedom. Carefully not to hurt him you took the thing off and put it aside before meeting his gaze again. 

“Please don't bail on me now; I won't be able to explain how I let a high-level criminal escape.”

A chuckle fell from his lips, 

and then he pressed them to yours. 

The kiss was soft, gentle, genuine. The contact you had craved made every butterfly return and stole the air from your aching lungs, and when you broke apart and looked into the swirling ruby you saw affection so deep it nearly brought tears to your waterlines again. 

“I do not think I could, doctor mine; even if I wished to.” 

How could it be wrong to feel for this man when everything about it felt so right? Maybe you really could be happy again, and maybe you could really have a future?  
Ah, that reminded you of the plan. 

“So... How does this work?” 

“First you will need to take off your shirt.” A mischievous glint appeared in his eyes, the corners of his lips curling up ever so slightly. “Direct contact works best, after all.” 

You had a feeling he was lying just to get you out of your shirt but you knew too little about magic to dispute it, and so you pulled your shirt over your head and lay it aside anyway. “Now what?” 

“Turn around - I will put my hands on your back. I hope the cold doesn't bother you.”

“It won't,” you replied quietly and did as he had asked; turning away and setting your hands on the desktop. You had a feeling this was going to hurt. 

First you felt his cool fingertips, lightly pressing against the skin below your shoulder blades. Then, as if he had given you a moment to adjust to his temperature, he gingerly pressed his palms against your back – and you held your breath as you waited for the torture to begin.  
Yet it didn't.  
Instead, a strange and glowing sensation irradiated from his touch. It diffused into your skin, into your flesh, into your organs and your bones, spread to every cell in every limb; it soothed and mended, eased and repaired and _healed_. You could feel it – you could feel how you were _healing_.  
Water welled up and spilled down your cheeks in thick droplets, sliding over your disbelieving smile and dripping onto the desk. The headache you didn't know you'd had faded, the constant weariness of your bones washed away, and all the things that had felt so wrong inside of you finally felt normal again. How could it be so easy? How could it be so quick to recover?

You hadn't even noticed that Loki had stopped until the featherlight touch of his lips to your bare shoulder made your breath hitch, your heart picking up its pace immediately, and when his kisses grew a little firmer and moved up to your neck heat started to blossom like never before. Everything suddenly felt much more intense, much more real, and it was... exhilarating. It was better than you could ever have imagined – ever could have hoped.  
He wrapped his arms around your waist and pressed himself against you, nuzzling into the crook of your neck as he spoke. 

“I may not be Jonathan, but I am yours nonetheless.” 

While it made your heart swell and glow and made love fill you so intensely you could barely contain it, it also sobered you up quite a bit. You turned around in his arms to meet his gaze. 

“It's not real – the soulmark. There is no Jonathan.”

Silence. His eyes a little wider, confusion written all over his face. Then: “I... I'm afraid I don't understand.” 

“Remember how I told you that I got a tattoo when I started over?” You placed your hands against his chest, turning one wrist upwards and glancing down at the name inked into your skin. “It was another thing I had to do to become someone else.” 

He was silent for another moment, staring down at the small black letters as well, until his mind managed to word another question. “Did you not have one already?” 

You shook your head. “No.” Then hesitated. “-Well, sort of; but it must've gone wrong somehow. It's another thing I got shunned for, another thing that made me different; and so I've been hiding it. It's unreadable.” 

“Show me.” 

You glanced up again, surprised at the firm request. “What, why? I'm pretty sure it's not even a name-”

“ _Show me._ ” 

Without looking away your fingers found the prosthetic fake-skin patch on your collarbone and peeled it off, absently laying it with the rest of your things, but his reaction was not the disgust, confusion, or disappointment you had expected:

He just stared, paralysed; the appearing, glistening sheen betraying his held-back tears - and when he hesitantly, cautiously, lifted his hand to touch it warmth shot through you and a soft unsolicited moan escaped your lips. 

 

He stared at the soulmark, at his own name written in Jötnar - the lost language of his ancestors. This meant that he had a Soulmate, that _she_ was his Soulmate, and that he was hers. He hadn't asked for her name, had simply called her 'doctor' all this time instead of asking such a fundamental thing; but now the right syllables fell from his lips and the way her eyes widened in shock told him enough.  
Gods, what was he to say? To do? The emotions were so incredibly strong and rushed through him like a hurricane, destroying the notions he had thought true for so long: that he was unlovable, that the name on his skin was a mistake, that he didn't deserve a Soulmate.  
And here she stood, right in front of him, with a blush on her face and confusion in her bright gaze and his heart could barely survive the wave of love that overcame him-

So he leaned in and kissed her again.

Kissed her sweetly, desperately, lustfully, lovingly; all of that and more as he pulled her closer by her waist and softly brushed his finger over her soulmark again, eliciting a beautiful gasp. Feeling her tremble in his embrace, how she returned his kiss so hungrily – he was drunk on her and everything she did, everything she was, everything she would still become. He loved her. He hadn't known her for long but by the Gods how he loved her. 

His love transmuted into a different kind - a blazing heat that was nearly unbearable, and his body begged for hers to be closer, to feel her skin against his and to cherish that feeling so deeply it would nearly hurt – so he let his magic take care of his prison suit and pressed himself into her as far as physically possible.  
It was not enough.  
With one sweeping wave of magic everything was pushed off the desk only a second before he lifted her on top of it. Her legs locked around his waist, her hands finding his shoulders, and her lips continued to be occupied by his.  
The soft thunk of the meds slipping from his underwear and falling to the floor went unnoticed as the both of you were far too occupied with each other to be aware of your surroundings. 

 

Your ability to think was lost the very moment his tongue met yours and your body began to reach a temperature that made you feel dizzy. Warmth pooling, need building – all you knew right now was that you craved him closer to you, enveloping you, connected to you, and that nothing else mattered. Skin to blue skin, finally a solution to the touch-starved longing; his hands slipping around you so his fingers could find the clasps on your back. The feeling of him pressing hard against your core made you mewl for him.  
His mouth travelled to your jaw, your ear, then down over your mating gland; your head tilting sideways to grant him access. Did you want him to bite you there? To mate with you and make you his for all to see? The thought sent shivers down your spine but mating was like marriage and you weren't sure if you were ready for it. Would he understand? Would he give in to his urges? Would he-  
you gasped when he sank his teeth into the juncture of your neck and shoulder, a fresh wave of arousal making you clench your thighs around his waist. Not a mating bite but close enough to make his intentions clear. He nuzzled the skin over your gland and inhaled deeply, as if to savour your scent. 

“Be mine, my love; let me bind myself to you. I want nothing more than to have you by my side for as long as the Fates will allow it.” 

“Loki, I- I don't know if I can, if I'm ready. I... I might need some time.” 

He buried his face into your neck and hummed. “I do not know how much time the universe has still left to offer.” 

He had a point, but... 

“It's just- how can I mate with you after only knowing you for a week?” 

He pulled back a little and straightened his back to meet your gaze, to plant a gentle kiss on your lips. “I am your Soulmate, am I not? We are meant to be.” 

Was that all that was needed? Two people's names written in each other's skin, deciding who they are destined to love? Was it still really love, then, if it was Destiny that forced people together? Had it even been your own choice to fall in love with him or had it been something else, something bigger, that had decided for you? You didn't know, and it frightened you. 

“What if none of this was our choice? What if you only care for me because some inexplicable power in the universe subconsciously told you so? What if you had fallen in love with someone else if you had been given the chance?” 

His eyes searched yours. “Does it matter? You are the woman that I love, and what I feel... It is more real than anything I have ever felt before. I meant every word I said: I want nothing more than to spend the rest of the time that I have left living at your side. It might not be long, and it might not end well... But that does not mean we should give up on it altogether.” He rested his forehead to yours. “I crave you, my love; I crave your body and your mind and if we should continue this... delightful activity, I might not be able to hold myself back. Every instinct is screaming at me to bind myself to you.” 

His confession only made the heat between your legs grow worse, your own desire spiking again, and from the way his lips and nose gravitated back to your mating gland you knew he could smell it. Could smell how you desired him too, in each and every way. 

“If you want to wait I will respect your decision,” he continued softly, placing kisses all over the sensitive spot. 

You bit your lip, your brain trying to function but having a hard time with the distraction, and a loud moan escaped your lungs as he sucked on the skin covering your mating gland. He was driving you insane in all the best ways and your own instincts weren't helping either. And he was right, wasn't he? Your love felt more than real and everything could disappear in a snap, so the risk was worth taking. Better to have loved shortly and intensely than to waste the opportunity and watch it all fade.  
You took a deep breath, suddenly more certain than you had ever been about anything in your life. 

“You're right.” 

He stilled, his loving ministrations halting for a moment, so you continued: 

“Bite me, Loki. Mate with me; I won't let my love go to waste.”

“Are... are you sure? I can give you time to think it over-” 

But you leaned forward and placed a kiss on his own sensitive spot, his scent making your mind haze over deliciously again - and the soft groan that came rumbling up from within his chest made your heart skip a beat. 

“Mate with me.” 

It was all he needed to be convinced.  
His lips locked around the skin and sucked so hard you cried out, your fingers digging into his back, and he rutted against you in a way that sent bolts of pleasure up your spine. A feral growl came from him in response.  
But he didn't bite down yet.  
His tongue trailed to your throat, then over your collarbone and the mark on it – sending another jolt through your body – and kept trailing down. Over your breast, pausing to tease your nipple, to suck on it, nip it, tug on it softly. Over your belly, dipping into your bellybutton and kissing the line of skin just above the hem of your pants. And, after his magic had taken care of the obstruction, even further down.  
His hands pushed your knees apart as he lowered himself between your thighs and pressed his nose into your soaked panties, his cool breath making you squirm; and one firm stroke of his tongue over the fabric had you mewling already. A finger joined in, rubbing in slow, long lines, until you were close to begging him to just rip off your knickers – but he seemed to know just before you opened your mouth and let his magic take care of it. 

It was both terrifying and incredibly arousing to be bare before him, in full sight, vulnerable to whatever he had planned for you; yet, as if you weren't already shaking with anticipation, he lifted an ankle first and kissed it. A kiss higher, then higher – and higher – and _higher_ \- stopping at the inside of your thigh and switching to the other leg, where he repeated the worship. With each kiss and lick his mouth came closer to where you wanted it, needed it, making you hold on to the edge of the desktop when his breath finally tickled the sensitive skin again -  
and he dragged his tongue up over your folds.  
Your eyes fell shut as you moaned and leaned back, wishing you had something - _anything_ \- to hold on to; finally opting to just lay down altogether as he dipped his tongue inside of you. His licking intensified, sped up as if he could barely restrain himself, lapping up your juices as if he needed it to live. Staying silent was no longer an option. His lips closed around the sensitive bud and sucked, teased, licked until tension began to coil and build inside your stomach- but he stopped before you could come. 

A whine escaped you before you could stop it and he chuckled against your folds, giving them one last kiss before he straightened himself up. 

“So wet for me; so beautiful. I crave you so deeply.” He kissed his way up to your breasts again, giving both nipples some attention. 

“Then fuck me, Loki,” you begged him through a moan. 

Another soft chuckle. “Though I would love to take you in this form of mine I fear it would be too much.” A thin layer of magic washed over him and replaced the azure skin with the alabaster, the ruby eyes switching to crystalline blue, and his height dropped a little – though he was still much taller than you were. 

Even though part of you was slightly disappointed, you loved this form of him as well. His beauty was unparalleled either way and he had probably made the right call – if the size of his bulge had been anything to go by it most likely wouldn't have fit. Still, you were nervous when he vanished his underwear with a dark look in his eyes and you couldn't glance down at what he had revealed as it would only make your nerves worse – but the love in Loki's gaze calmed your fast-beating heart a little. 

“I will go slow; it is not my intention to hurt you. Tell me if you need me to stop.”

You nodded in response, biting your lip as he slid himself over your folds and pressed the tip to your entrance – and the air you had been holding inside your lungs came spilling out with sound as he slowly pressed inside of you. Inch by gradual inch slid deeper and deeper and when his knot pressed against your folds he moaned so low it was nearly a growl. 

“So tight and warm...” 

He rested his forehead against yours as he gave both of you a moment to adjust; and when you experimentally clenched your walls a little around his thick shaft he properly growled in pleasure this time. Gods, it felt amazing; his length and girth a tight but amazing fit, the feeling of him throbbing inside of you like a fantasy become real. You could only imagine how full you would feel when you took his knot.

“I'm going to move,” he breathily announced, and once he had your consenting hum he slowly pulled out with a groan and then pushed back in again; his tip pressing deliciously against that sensitive spot inside of you. 

 

With every thrust it was getting harder and harder for him to hold back, to go slow, and even though he wanted to make love to her intimately and for hours still to come there was that pesky urge inside of him begging him to go faster, harder, to pound into her and mate with her and to breed her over and over again-  
but he couldn't let that primal side of him win. He needed to show her how deep his emotions for her ran and he would worship her body all day and night if that was what it took. Yet the sounds she made, the way she writhed below him, the way she cried out softly every time he ground his knot over her clit... He needed a distraction or the sight and sound of her would undoubtedly make him lose control.  
One hand found her ass and the other slid between the desktop and her back, pulling her torso up against his; and once she had wrapped her arms around him to hold tight he carefully moved them to one of the couches where he lay her down again and continued to slowly make love to her – this time able to bury his face into her neck and nibble at the mating gland. Oh how she clung to him, nails digging gently into his shoulders as he sped up just a little. His mouth travelled down to her soulmark again, making her back arch as he licked it, sucked on it, kissed it before continuing further down to her nipple. 

 

Everything he did to you made you squirm and it was like he kept you at the brink of orgasming but never quite letting you reach it, and it was driving you insane in all the best ways. To feel him inside of you, connected to you, bodies so close together and his lips seemingly everywhere - it was almost too much and yet you wanted, no, _needed_ more. 

“Please, Loki...” You lifted your hips to try and coax him deeper, to feel his thick knot press against your core. “Mate with me, knot me...” 

A shaky breath ran down your breast and he gave it one last kiss before moving his lips to yours again. “Do not tempt me so soon, love; once I let go I might not be able to rein it back in.” 

You rolled your hips again, making him inhale sharply, and you were drunk on the power you had over him; the pleasure you could give him. “It's okay; you don't need to hold back anymore. I just want to feel all of you inside of me.” 

“Then all of me you will get.” 

He finished two more thrusts then slowly pulled out until just the tip was left inside of you and you immediately missed the feeling, yet you knew better than to whine – because soon enough he slowly pushed back in again; further, further, further, until his knot pressed hard against your entrance and even further yet, slowly stretching you-  
Until it slid in and filled you to the brim. 

You cried out as it pressed hard against all the right spots, and when he started moving again it was impossible to stay quiet for the both of you. You could only hope the room was soundproof.  
He was almost mercilessly pounding into you, nipping at your neck and shoulders with his hands roaming every inch of your skin, rushing you towards the edge in a way that was nearly too much to handle. Colours were bursting in the darkness of your closed eyes, your body was nearly overheating even against his colder one – and when finally the spring began to coil and coil and coil and _snap_ -

He bit down into your neck, right over your mating gland, and bound himself to you as he filled you with his seed. 

The universe seemed to explode within you and the pleasure and bliss mixed into deepest euphoria, every thrust only making more stars turn into supernovas. His knot inflated and movement was no longer possible but the feeling was incredible enough on it's own. Your orgasm seemed to last for ages, your heart only slowing down once your body seemed to grow less sensitive, but with Loki nuzzling the mating mark and occasionally kissing your soulmark time seemed to have faded from existence altogether - and when you sank your teeth into his neck and returned the bonding it was like there was no one else in this world but you and him. Mated, bonded, loved. Together.

 

Gradually, after some time, the emotions began to subdue enough to allow for conscious movement again and he gently rolled the both of you onto your sides, still connected, so he could hold you close and breathe in your scent. His fingers caressed your heated skin, his lips worshipped your face. He had you speechless. In a week time your life had changed so drastically it was almost too much to wrap your head around, and yet everything about it felt so true that you had no desire to regret a thing - so you didn't. You let the bliss fill your soul, let the affection occupy your heart, and kept your thoughts from wandering. All you needed lay in your embrace. 

 

 

He had no idea how much time passed and quite frankly he didn't need to know, because if it were up to him it would last for all of eternity. No Thanos to worry about, no despair and destruction; just him and her, together, in peace. Would the Fates allow him this one thing? Oh how he hoped they would. How he hoped his information would prevent the Fall, would bring an end to his suffering, his running. Death was no longer what he desired, after all – not now that his life was worth living. He would do anything in his power to keep her safe, to keep her happy. 

He would do anything for her,

And so he would save the universe.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Finally, after a long hiatus, I have returned - and with a long chapter at that! Sadly it's also the final one. I might one day write an epilogue, or perhaps I'll just leave it up to you to decide whether or not they succeeded in preventing the snap.   
> I hope it's a proper ending to the story and I hope the quality of my writing hasn't gone down during my absence. Either way I would love to hear your opinion and please point out mistakes if you see them! I would only be grateful ♡
> 
> Thank you for your patience and I hope you enjoyed this fic!


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